


What Comes After

by LillsBills



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, F/F, F/M, Forgive Me, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Is it a crack fic?, Maybe - Freeform, Nightmares, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Smut between Men, The first one is worse, This fic was like the second one I wrote, Unknown Illness, aftermath of war, it's not the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 28,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillsBills/pseuds/LillsBills
Summary: Hermione and Harry choose to go back to Hogwarts after the war without Ron by their side. Hermione, like most others, is plagued by the war, and to her surprise, so is Draco Malfoy. What will this new world bring them? What will it bring anyone?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 25
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all!
> 
> Okay, so this was like the second fic I had ever written and I decided to move it over to AO3 form Fanfiction.  
> I'm trying to better my writing and I feel like I've improved a little since writing this but I still have a long way to go. 
> 
> I am way open to criticism both good and bad and please feel free to point stuff out (it can only make me a better writer). 
> 
> This fic is posted in full on FF under the same username and I will be posting chapters here regularly. 
> 
> Thank you all, and enjoy.

Chapter 1

One thing that Hermione could admit was that she was wrong about just how hard the aftermath of the war would be. She went to the funerals of those who died and visited those who were injured during the Final Battle and every battle beforehand.

But one thing was clear. It didn't help.

She often found herself sitting in the kitchen of Grimmauld place after the nightmares. She would pour herself a glass of Fire Whiskey and watch the fire from the fireplace dance in its reflection. Harry would go here often, and they would sit in silence. He was the one who convinced her to start in the Wizarding World, that she belonged there.

She didn't. Not anymore, and maybe not ever.

She had originally gone to the Burrow after the war but decided not to say after the loud and frankly disruptive fight and breakup between herself and Ron. It would have never worked, not after what he did — abandoning her so easily.

She knew that he also lost his family, that he was afraid that he would lose more. But she and Harry were his family too, right? No. And that's when the doubt started.

Ron tried to understand when she pushed him away, and she couldn't blame him for their young relationship dying so soon. She just could feel anything. She wondered if she had ever felt anything but pain. She was numb, and from what she can remember, she always has been.

Harry understood Hermione knew he did. He and Ginny had broken up because they wanted different things. Ginny wanted to join a Quidditch team, and she wanted Harry to take the Auror offer from Kingsley but when Harry got a letter informing him that he could return to Hogwarts for what would be a normal year.

Hermione and Harry both agreed when they got their letters. They were going back for a second chance, a new beginning to start something new, both tired of fighting, of always being on the lookout.

Ron was joining Cuddley's Quidditch team as Keeper and was against going back to school altogether.

Like Hermione had thought since he abandoned them in the Forest of Dean. He didn't understand.

On the morning of September 1st, Hermione and Harry left Grimmauld place hand and hand, supporting each other like they always had.

Once they had gotten to the train station, the whispers began. People waved and cheered as they walked by. Hermione pushed herself closer to Harry, who looked straight on, not acknowledging those who wanted his attention.  
They found an empty compartment, and Hermione, out of habit, warded it shut, ensuring that no one from the outside world would get in.

Harry sat down, and Hermione began to pace anxiously.

"It doesn't feel like I hoped it would," Harry said, "I feel like a circus animal.”

"I know what you mean," Hermione replied, panic slowly engulfing her at the idea of this being her new reality, tears threatening her. "I don't like it. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we shouldn't have come back. Oh Merlin, Harry! What are we going to do?”

Harry pulled her down next to him, "Breathe, Hermione," He whispered, "If its a mistake, we'll leave. We'll go somewhere far away… I've heard Brazil is a nice place, we can go there.”

Hermione snorted out a wet laugh, wiping away wayward tears. "Okay," Hermione said, "if we hate it, we'll go to Brazil, leave everything behind.”

The rest of the train ride was silent, Harry stared blankly outside the window, and Hermione fidgeted, picking at her lips until they bled.

When the train finally stopped, Hermione didn't budge. She made a mistake. A huge, mistake. She should have just stayed in Australia with her parents as they begged her too a year ago when she "obliviated" them.

Harry had to coax Hermione up and out of the compartment, opening the door from the inside breaking the warding. Harry threw his arm over her shoulder, holding her close, whispering words into her ear.

It's was from the corner of her eye that she saw a streak of blond hair, and Hermione's body froze, her hand jumping straight to her left forearm where the slur was forever etched into her.

"Don't look at him, Herms," Harry said, "he isn't here, you don't have to talk to him ever. I'll make sure of it.”

Hagrid started to call out for the first years. There weren't more than 20 children eagerly oohing and awing at what they saw.  
Harry ushered Hermione into a carriage pulled by the thestrals everyone could now see.

At the Great Hall, Hermione sat next to Harry, other Gryffindor's sat around them, but Hermione kept her eyes on her play the entire time. After the sorting the only sounds in the room were two first-years chatting away, other, more silent conversations muted by it.

They must be Muggleborns, Hermione thought to herself, as she watched the two new Gryffindor's talking together.

For the first time, Hermione looked up, her eyes landing on the pale blond boy across the Hall. He sat alone, isolated from all the other Slytherin's at the back of the table. A few Slytherin's looking his way with worry, and Hermione could understand why. He was thin. Not as thin as he used to be, but he still didn't look healthy. No healthier than she looked.

Eventually, Malfoy's eyes met her's, and he held her gaze for a moment. His eyes were hollow. His eyes had seen so much, too much. Not unlike Harry's. Or Neville's. Or Ron's. Or hers.

Malfoy was the first to look away. He blinked several times, his lip quivered for a moment before standing and stomping out of the hall.

Blaise Zabini stood up as well, running after him, calling his name.  
"Death Eater." Seamus said, "Why did he even come back?”

"Seamus—" Harry, Neville, and Dean said at once.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Finnigan," Hermione said.

The room went silent, and from the corner of Hermione's eye, she saw Harry's jaw go slack.

"This was a mistake," Hermione said, to Harry before standing up, moving to leave, "We shouldn't have come back.”

Hermione stormed out of the Great Hall, anger coiling in her chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione stopped down the stone halls, her shoes clacking against the floor. At one point she saw Zabini run past her like she wasn’t even there. She after some time she stopped and landed up against a wall, focusing her breathing, trying to stave off her a panic attack. 

Once her head was clear, she calmly walked down the halls, the cool air prickling her skin. She walked up to the fifth floor, and halfway to the other side of the hall. 

There was a small noise, sniffling, that made Hermione stop. 

Hermione walked toward the door to a classroom, turning the door and pushing it in, a loud creek echoing as she did so. She let her eyes adjust to the darkness before she stepped inside. The room was obviously abandoned, tables and chairs stacked on top of each other. 

The sniffling had stopped, and Hermione thought for a moment that she had imagined the whole thing until something moved. 

Hermione pulled out her wand, pointing it at the offending sound, a slicing spell on the tip of her tongue. 

“Who’s there?” Hermione said, “Come out!”

Slowly, a hand rose from behind the row of stacked tables, a second one following. Hermione’s stance faltered when she recognized the blond hair of Draco Malfoy. 

“Dont—” he began, swallowing a sob, the fringe of his hair blocking his face “I was just sitting. I’m not doing anything. I swear. I was just sitting.”

Hermione’s arm dropped, she stepped back bumping into stacked chairs, causing them to fall with a loud crash. Malfoy looked up, his eyes widening with a shock when he realized who had found him.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, as she backed her way to the door, realizing she could have killed him, “I’m sorry.”

Hermione ran out and down the hall. She didn’t stop until she crashed into something. Or someone was more like it. Hermione looked up from her place on the floor to see Headmistress McGonagall looking down at her, her eyes tired. 

“Miss. Granger,” she said, “my office, please.”

Hermione stood and dusted herself off, nodding as she did so. They walked down the hall in silence, Hermione walking a few steps behind her. The Headmistress muttered the password to the gargoyle once they got here, which leaped side for the pair. 

McGonagall walked behind her desk and made herself comfortable. Hermione, on the other hand, stood in the doorway, refusing to budge. 

“Have a seat, Miss. Granger,” McGonagall said, motioning to the seat across from her.

“I’d rather stand,” Hermione said.

The older witch nodded and cleared her throat. Hermione moved side to side uneasy, waiting for whatever was to come.

“As you know,” The Headmistress began, “the positions of Head Girl and Boy have already been given to two other students…” Hermione nodded at the obvious statement but listened on, “But, I would like to offer you the position in honorem. I know when you came back, you wanted this to be an easier year, so the position is in name only… We just wanted to recognize you and Mr.Potter for the positions you would have had last year.”

Hermione watched the other witch, her mouth slightly open, “So, Harry and I are Heads in name only?” Hermione said, “What does that have to do with anything?”

The older witch smiled, “You and Mr.Potter will be sharing a private dorm. Separate rooms shared common room…”

“Why not anyone else?” Hermione said, crossing her arms, her eyes avoiding the Headmistress.

“It’s also because we think that after the year on the run, we— the faculty— thought that private rooms would be best.”

Hermione nodded, pulling her lip between her teeth at the mention of how she spent the last year. 

“Your common room is behind the portrait of the centaurs on the sixth floor.” With that, Hermione walked out of the office, walking as quickly as she could to her new room. 

When she arrived at the portrait, the centaurs nearly glanced at her before the painting opened, revealing the brightly lit room behind it. The common room was large, a little larger than half the Gryffindor’s common room, the same red and gold colors painted throughout, and a large staircase leading up to the second floor to a small balcony where two doors sat closed. 

“Hermione!” Harry, who had been pacing in front of the fire, cried out as she stepped in, “Where were you!? I looked for you everywhere!”

Hermione smiled at her friend's slight distress over her momentary disappearance. She plopped herself down onto the couch, chin in hand, and watched Harry watch her for any distress, “You didn’t check the map?”

Harry flushed darkly and looked down at his feet. “I forgot about that,” he muttered, “how could I forget about it?”

“It happens to the best of us, Harry.” Hermione replied, then, after a beat said, “I’m a bit tired. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” 

Hermione climbed up the stairs, going into the room marked Hermione Granger in an elegant script on the door on the left.

The room itself was different then the red and gold splashed in the common room, instead of calming lilacs and soft grays. Hermione looked around for a moment, noting that the door to her right must be the bathroom seeing that there was a wardrobe by the door.

The sight made Hermione smile before she went to the trunk at the foot of her bed and changed into her sleepwear, shorts and a spaghetti top. 

She slipped into bed, casting a silencing cell on her room before setting her wand on her nightstand. She buried herself against the pillows, and slowly she closed her eyes, hoping for a night of peace when she knew she would see the forest, werewolves, and a knife instead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: nightmares about torture.

Harry watched his best friend walk up the stairs. He worried for the witch; she didn’t talk about what went on inside her head, electing help others instead of helping herself. He watched the door for another hour before he headed to bed himself. 

He laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling like he did most nights, sleep escaping him. He counted the cracks, then the bumps above him — three hours past when the screaming began, muffled by the silencing charms Hermione cast every night. 

Harry shot out of bed and burst into the adjoining bathroom then into Hermione’s bedroom, only for the steaming to escalate higher and higher, pleading being mixed with screaming instead of taking a breath. 

Hermione was thrashing about in bed, the sheets tangled with her legs, her hand clutching her left forearm.

That was a tell-tale of the nightmare for the day at Malfoy Manor and though she never talked about it, Harry knew that memory haunted her in the day as well.

Harry walked to her bedside and brushed the hair out of her face, crawling next to her, cradling her still too thin frame to his chest. 

“Hermione, love,” Harry whispered, “Its a nightmare, it's not real anymore.”

He repeated the words like he had so many times before, trying to gently pull her out of her nightmare.

Hermione’s eyes slowly fluttered open, tears staining her cheeks. She pressed her lips together then scrambled out of bed and into the bathroom, wrenching everything and anything in her stomach. Harry followed after and held back her hair, whispering nonsense in order to calm h

He stood behind her and watched her chest heave, her spine visible beneath her skin. Hermione hardly ate anything at the feast earlier in the day, the last thang she had was a slice of bread in the morning. She might have thought he didn’t notice, but he did. 

He rubbed her back, the bumps of her bones churning his stomach, as he cooed to her. 

“You can stop now,” Hermione said, her face still in the toilet, “there’s nothing left.”

Harry helped her stand, taking the towel hanging by the sink to clean her mouth. 

“Hermione,” Harry said, “it isn’t getting better… Maybe this time you talk to someone.”

Hermione shook her head, taking the towel from Harry’s hand. “I’m fine, Harry, I swear.”

Harry looked at her with side eyes, “You are still losing weight, and the nightmares aren’t helping…” he said, “at least talk to me, please… I talk to you… you know I would do anything for you.”

He meant it, he did. He would do anything for her now. She was his sister, the one who has always had his back, no matter what. 

Hermione considered him for a moment, looking into his deep green eyes, “It was about Bellatrix…” she said, shuttering at the name, “She’s cutting into me…”

Harry nodded, pulling her into her bedroom, and led her to the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently, afraid she would push him away.

“No,” Hermione said, crawling back into bed, “I just want sleep… will you stay with me?”

“Always,” Harry said, “no matter what.”

“Promise?” Hermione asked in an almost childlike way, her eyes closing slowly. 

“I promise,” Harry replied, he crawled into space next to her, pulling the covers over them. 

For the first time in a long time, Harry fell asleep without trying.

****

Morning came faster than Harry would have hoped. Hermione was still asleep next to him, her hair standing up in all directions. He dreadfully shook her, attempting to rouse her awake when she shot up gasping for air.

“I'm awake!” She breathed, “I’ll start my shift, now.”

Harry gave a sad chuckle, sitting up beside her. “No shift, Hermione,” Harry said, rubbing her back, “We’ll be late for breakfast, though.”

Hermione looked at Harry, confusion clear in her eyes, “Breakfast…” she whispered, looking around the room, “… we’re in Hogwarts…”

“That’s right,” Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, “Get dressed and we’ll walk down together.”

Hermione nodded, “I’ll be right out.”

Harry walked out of the room through the adjacent bathroom, leaving Hermione to her privacy. He quickly got changed, and when he heard the door of the bathroom open, close then open and close again, he finished up getting ready. 

When he walked when the stairs to the common room, Hermione was walking around looking at their shared common room, her clothes hid just how thin she was; no one would have been the wiser. Harry knew that Hermione had cut her rations by three-fourths during their time on the run, but he had hoped that after she had put the weight back on. After the torture and the nightmares, he knew it would take longer. 

“I like it,” Hermione said, not even looking up at Harry, breaking him out of his head “I’m sorry that I kept you up, last night.” 

Harry met her at the bottom of the steps, hands in the pockets of his robes. “You didn’t keep me up.” Hermione said, “And anyway, I wasn’t asleep.”

He reached out his hand, Hermione taking it after a moment’s hesitation. 

“Let's go down to breakfast,” Hermione said. 

Harry smiled down at her, and they walked down to the Great Hall, where people were talking and laughing. Harry felt Hermione’s grip tighten and when he looked down at her, he noticed that her eyes were on Malfoy, and he could see why. He was haggard, bruises adorning his face. Zabini looked up to Harry, and for a moment, Harry could have sworn some color filled the boy’s cheeks before he looked away, back to his injured friend.

“Come on,” Harry said, pulling her away, to the other side of the room to their usual seats. 

Harry started to fill up Hermione’s plate with a variety of foods; eggs, bacon, potatoes, and everything and anything that would put weight on her. Once her plate was piled high, he filled his own. The table fell into comfortable conversation about the classes for this year which made Harry groan.

He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life anymore. Quidditch wasn’t something he wanted to do. Being an Auror was out of the question… Maybe he would talk to McGonagall about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position when he mustered up the courage. 

He looked over to Hermione. She had eaten some of the food on her plate, playing with what was left. 

“Students,” McGonagall said, her voice booming, echoing off the walls, “As you know, today is the first day of classes, and I would like to wish you all good luck.” the students all clapped at her words, and she waited for a moment for them to settle down. “Now, you all may leave for classes, except for those who are hear to make up their 7th year… and Miss. Lovegood as well please.”

Harry watched the students all get-up and leave for class, ten students, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Luna, Hanna, the Patil twins, Malfoy, and Zabini, staying behind with Hermione and himself. Hermione looked over to Harry; her lips pursed tight. 

“Don’t worry,” the Headmistress said, “I just wanted to inform you that you all have an adjusted schedule. Defense against the Dark Arts is not required for you, and you’ll find your schedule quite empty… Please use that time wisely.”

McGonagall handed out the schedules, and Harry looked him over quickly; Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, and Herbology along with one extracurricular. The classes only went from Monday to Thursday at noon. Harry nodded, yes, his schedule would be free indeed. 

“Five classes,” Harry heard Hermione whisper, “five classes I can do.”

He looked over to her; her lip was pulled between her teeth again as she picked away. 

Harry looked across the Hall once again, to see Malfoy watching Hermione. Malfoy must have felt Harry’s eyes on him because he found himself staring right into Malfoy’s eyes. Malfoy looked down immediately, putting his attention on his schedule. 

Harry draped his arm around Hermione’s shoulders protectively, more for himself than for her, and when Hermione looked up to him, he only smiled. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe they shouldn’t have come back.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione was tired and her bones ached. It had only been three hours worth of classes she was exhausted. Transfiguration was first, Charms second, and then Herbology on Mondays and Wednesdays. Hermione thanked Merlin when she had read that she only had potions Tuesday evenings and Hogwarts a History Thursday mornings.

In the middle of Charms, she felt herself drifting off, Flitwick’s lecture mottled in her head, even though she tried to keep her eyes open, her body demanded sleep. When the class was over Harry leaned over to her, and whispered in her ear. 

“Hermione,” he said, “skip herbology and go get some sleep.”

Hermione shook her head, her legs wobbled as she stood, “It’s the first day. I can’t miss it.”

Harry considered Hermione for a moment before he stood up and shook his head, his jet black hair flying in all directions, his glasses moving slightly down his nose. “No, I’ll tell Neville to let Professor Sprout know you aren’t feeling well.”

Hermione sat back down, her body swaying before she did so. She was to weak to argue, but she didn’t have the energy. Her hands were shaking, even her skin hurt, and she felt like she was seeing the world from under water. 

“Come on,” Harry said, helping Hermione to her feet, “Let’s get you back to the room.”

Harry practically carried Hermione towards the room, her legs to week to support her. Eventually, Harry stopped by a small aclove, helping Hermione onto the floor once he realized she was in worse condition than he thought.

“Harry, I’m fine,” Hermione murmured, “I promise. I’m just tired is all.”

“Hermione,” Harry said louder than she appreciated, “I need you to keep your eyes open, okay? I need you too just stay with me.”

She was to far gone. All she wanted was rest. That was it. Was that to much to ask for after everything? For some rest? Some quiet? 

Her bones felt like jelly, and every time she blinked she was back at Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix screeching down at her, demanding to know things Hermione refused to tell her. 

The look on the Malfoys’ faces. 

The cold stone.

The knife.

The pain.

It started to come back to her, making her whimper as a result. 

Then things started going black. The world spinning around her. Consuming her, and oh, how she wanted it too

Harry was cradling her head in his large hands, whispering words of encouragement. How she was strong. How they were almost there. 

But Hermione didn’t believe him. 

“Potter?” Hermione heard someone say, the voice muffled by the pounding in her head, “Are you okay?”

“Zabini,” came Harry’s tight voice, worry coloring his tone, “I’m fine… It’s Hermione. She’s not well.”

From the corner of her eye Hermione could see the dark skinned Italian look down at her with worry.

“What’s wrong with her?” Zabini asked. 

“I don’t know,” Harry answered. He slipped his arm under Hermione’s knees, and lifted her up with ease. “Not that I don’t appreciate the concern, but I need to get Herms to her room.” Harry walked down the hall with large, sweeping steps, Zabini following close behind. “Zabini, go away.” He called behind him at the foot steps echoing in Hermione’s head.

The footsteps stopped, and Hermione felt her body grow heavy with even step Harry took. She blacked out for a moment, only to wake up again in her bed, something warm holding her close. 

“Herms?” Harry said from behind her, “Are you okay?”

Hermione nodded slowly, body slowly regaining feeling, “So tired.” She muttered. 

“What happened?” Hermione asked.

“I dont know,” Harry said, sitting up, Hermione immediately missing the warmth, “You tell me.”

Hermione turned her upper body so that it was pressed against the mattress. “It happens sometimes, I get really tired, and sometimes I forget where I am… Sometimes I end up back there… at the Manor.”

Harry looked at her, worry plain on his face. “When did it start?” he asked.

“A week after the final battle was the first time I noticed.” She whispered, “I thought I was getting better. It stopped.”

Harry blinked down at her for a moment, opening and closing his mouth. “Maybe we should tell someone… Maybe we should ask for help.”

Hermione shook his head with vigor, the pillow below her heat tangling her curls. “I cant, I can get better… I was getting better.” Hermione said, “I just need to sleep more… and eat more often… that’s what made it stop.”

“Okay,” Harry said, sinking back down next to her, and Hermione turned to fully face him, “but when things get bad, I want you to tell me.” Hermione opened her mouth to argue but Harry interrupted, “No. You always listened to me during and right after the war, you alway had my back and I want to be there for her Herms. I want to keep you safe.”

Hermione nodded, snuggling closer to him. 

“Dinner is in an hour,” Harry said, “we’ll head down in a bit.”

“We missed the whole day,” Hermione muttered.

“Yes we did,” Harry said, “It was well worth it, I think.”

Harry and Hermione eventually got out of her bed, cloths rumbled. They headed down to the Great Hall together, Hermione quietly talking about how she would talk to Professor Sprout about making up the day. 

She could tell Harry was trying, that he was doing his best to pay attentions but Hermione could see in his eyes that his mind was elsewhere. That he wanted to ask more about her episodes. 

And to be honest, Hermione wouldn’t have answers for him. She didn’t want to know. 

Harry led Hermione to the Gryffindor table and helped her sit before taking his own seat. As usual since the war, Harry piled Hermione’s plate with food before moving to fill his own. 

Hermione picked up her fork and picked at her plate for a while, only eating bits and pieces of ham and sprouts. Her eyes were drawn to the Slytherin table only to find Zabini watching her and Harry, and Malfoy missing from his spot. 

“Hermione?” Harry’s voice echoed in her head, “Can you eat just a tad bit more?”

Hermione lifted another piece of ham to her mouth, chewing it slowly, forcing her body not to empty her stomach onto the floor. 

“I want to go to the library,” Harry said, “Do you want to come too?”

Hermione shook her head which caused Harry’s eyebrows to raise, “I just want a little more sleep…” Hermione said, “Ill come with you another time.”

“I’ll walk you to the room” Harry began.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione huffed, “I can take care of myself.”

Harry nodded after he rolled his eyes. He kissed Hermione on the top of her head and walked out of the Great Hall. Zabini left soon after, then Luna, and a chunk of Gryffindors. Eventually, Hermione sat in the great hall alone, the voices of those who died five months ago echoing in her head.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry took in a deep breath. He had decided while Hermione slept that he would find out what was wrong with her, firm determination filling his spirit. 

The library was empty except for a few wayward Ravenclaws. It was the first day of classes after all. Harry quickly went to Madam Pince’s desk waiting patiently for the elderly witch to notice him. 

“Can I help you?” The older witch asked, not looking up from her paperwork.

“I wanted to know if we have any books on the aftermath of curses?” Harry whispered.

The witch looked up wit ha skeptical eye. For a moment, Harry thought that she would say no, that she would send him away.

“Mr.Potter,” She said, “restricted section, the title is Curses and Symptoms.”

Harry nodded, and quickly made his way to the back of the library, picking Curses and Symptoms and any other book that sounded relevant. 

He spent the rest of his night there, bent over the pages of the ancient tomes. To his surprise, the books had no reference to what was happening to Hermione. 

He thought of Hermione’s deteriorating state, the subtle blush of her cheeks and the fire in her eyes dimming away. His heart ached in his chest thinking of his friend wasting away, not even attempting to ask for help.

Madam Pince came around and told him that it was time to close up and that the books had to stay behind. 

Harry tried to argue, but put the books away and left the library just as the librarian was shutting the door. He took the longest route to his room, hoping that the walk would help him think. Maybe there was something he was missing. Maybe it had to do with the Cruciatus Curse she suffered. Maybe she was hit with something during the final battle. 

He walked up and down the corridors, his mind a million miles away when he spotted of platinum hair that could only belong to Malfoy.

“Potter.” Malfoy spat, “What are you doing here?”

Harry’s jaw clenches, his hands balling into fists. “I go where I please, Malfoy.” Harry spat back.

Harry took a moment to evaluate his surroundings. He had wandered down to the entrance of the Slytherin Dormitories. His glanced over at Malfoy; his bruises seemed to multiply on his skin, covering almost all his visible skin. 

Harry turned away in disgust, deciding it was better to walk away than to do more damage. 

“Oh,” Malfoy growled, “I forgot that Saint Potter could strut around without a worry. I guess you’re whore Granger doesn’t either.”

Harry froze, and the next thing he knew, Malfoy was pinned up against the wall, and to his throat. Malfoy’s shirt balled up in Harry’s fist. Malfoy had fear in his eyes, he was waiting for the next blow, but he did nothing to stop it. His reaction only made Harry’s anger burn hotter. 

“Do NOT talk about Hermione.” Harry hissed, pushing the point of his wand into Malfoy’s ivory neck, “You can talk about me all you want, but do not talk about Hermione. Not after you and your family put her through.”

Malfoy said nothing; he only started Harry in the eye, his challenge unwavering. 

Harry pressed the wand deeper, “Do we have an understanding?”

Malfoy gave one curt nod, his eyes unblinking. 

Harry dropped his wand, releasing Draco with a final push into the wall, causing his head to slam into the stone behind him. He took a calming breath and breathed, “Good.”

Harry gave Malfoy, who was staring at the floor, a final look before walking off, wanting nothing more than seeing his best friend and getting some sleep. 

Harry’s anger had boiled down by the time he had reached the entrance to his and Hermione’s room. The Centaur gave him a nod; his eyebrows pulled in concern. The portrait swung open, and the common room was illuminated in a golden glow. 

“Hermione?” Harry called. He immediately went upstairs only to find her room empty. 

Harry quickly moved through the bathroom into his room, ripping the duvet off his ted, to also find it empty. In a panic, Harry ran downstairs, almost tripping over his feet down the stairs. His panic subsided when he saw Hermione’s huddled form in front of the fire, her knees drawn to her chest.

“Hermione?” Harry said, approaching her carefully. 

She didn’t move.

“Hermione,” he repeated. 

Harry knelt behind her, curling his fingers around her shoulders. Hermione jumped, and Harry hushed her.

“It’s me, Herms,” Harry whispered. He stretched out his legs, one on either side of Hermione, so her back was against his chest. “You didn’t hear me calling?”

“No,” she whispered, “I’m sorry Harry, I was lost in thought.”

Harry nodded setting his chin on Hermione’s shoulder. 

“What are you doing down here?” Harry questioned gently, trying hot to scare the witch, “It’s late, why don’t you go sleep.”

“I’m so cold,” Hermione replied, her voice almost mournful, “I just want to get warm.”

Harry Accio-ed the through-blanket form the couch, tightly wrapping it tightly around Hermione before wrapping his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly.

“Let’s get you warm, then.” Harry reeled, “We’ll go to bed when you’re ready.”

Hermione nodded, her curly hair scratching against Harry’s cheek. She relaxed into his chest, and together they watched the fire dance. 

Sleep, like usual, didn’t come to Harry. When the fire became embers after several hours, Harry noticed that Hermione had fallen asleep, her soft and shallow breathing a clear indication. 

Harry carefully moved from under Hermione, He pulled her into his lap then stood up, carrying her bridal style up to her room, she was lighter than he remembered which worried him more than he already was.

He put her on her bed, making sure that she was tucked in and warm. He left the door of the bathroom open, opting to sleep in his room. Once changed, he opened the top drawer of his wardrobe and pulled out one of many Sleeping Draughts, downing it before he, himself fell into a potion influenced peaceful sleep for the first time in what felt like an eternity.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun shined through the lilac curtains of Hermione’s room and slowly she stirred awake. Her muscles were tights and her bones ached but it had been the first night of actual sleep Hermione got since the end of the war. 

But she was still cold, the tips of her fingers and toes were slightly blue, which left Hermione staring at them for several minutes. 

She shook herself out of the trance, and went to the bathroom. Both her and Harry’s doors were open wide, giving her a clear view into Harry’s already messy room. 

She closed Harry’s door than her own and turned on the shower to as hot as it would go. She undressed as the room slowly filled with steam. She took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Her ribs were pressed against her skin, her arms and legs knobby, and her face looked hollow. She ran a blue finger over her ribs, tracing the slightly puckered scar Dolovo gave her in the Department of Mysteries. 

She sighed, dropping her arm, and stepped into the shower, the hot water warmed her, her fingers and toe slowly turning pink. She smiled at her self as the spray of the water beat against her skin, relieving the knots in her back. 

Hermione let her head fall back, the water soaking into her hair, and slowly she began to message shampoo onto her scalp. She took as much consort as she could from the act whenever possible, the echos of months on the run coming back to her. 

She remembers how dirty she was. The way her hair had matted and how dry her skin felt the war went on, almost never having a change to her clean.

Hermione choked down a sob, forcing herself to remember she never had to do that again. That she should just let the water warm her spirit. 

She rinsed her hair of shampoo, then immediately squeezed more onto her head.

She repeated two more times, wishing to be as clean as possible.

She didn’t know how long she had been under the water, but her fingers began to prune the third time she washed her hair. 

A soft knock interrupted Hermione right before she went to wash her hair for a fifth time. 

“Hermione?” Harry’s voice came, “You’ve been in there for almost two hours, are you okay?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. TWO HOURS? 

“I’m fine, Harry,” Hermione called, clearing her throat after choking down another sob, “Everything is fine.”

“Okay, Herms.” he said, through the door, “Breakfast is in 30 minutes so we have some time.”

Hermione quickly finished up, and quickly left to Harry.

She dressed in her uniform, having to magically tailor it smaller, and headed downstairs to wait for Harry so they would walk down together.

Hermione started at the burnt out fire place while she waited, and when Harry emerged from his room, they walked to the Great hall. Harry’s arm thrown over Hermione’s shoulder protectively, then sneered. Hermione turned her head to see Malfoy and Zabini looking over at them. 

“No one is going to snatch me away, Harry” Hermione said when Harry glared at Malfoy and Zabini, the only other two people in the Great Hall.

Harry grumbled “doesn’t mean I have to like them,” under his breathe which caused Hermione to chuckle.

Harry dropped his arm form around her and pulled Hermione to the table by her hand. He helped her sit before piling food on her plate, talking a little bit of everything laid out before them.

“Harry,” Hermione laughed at the sight of the small mountain on her plate. The sound echoed in the large, almost empty room, “I’m not going to be able to eat all of this.”

“You can try!” Harry laughed, adding more eggs to Hermione’s plate.

She pulled the plate of eggs out of Harry’s hands and set it back on the table, before slowly cutting one of the two grilled tomatoes on her plate. 

There was a small clatter across the room and Hermione’s eyes landed across the room right at the two men across the hall, Malfoy’s eyes burrowing into hers. Harry nudged Hermione on her shoulder. 

“What do you think they are doing back?” He asked, his eyes were trailed on Zabini who blushed and looked back down onto his plate, wiping his fork on a napkin. 

“To finish their education, maybe?” Hermione said, breaking eye contact with Malfoy to focus on the food she would never be able to finish, “That’s why we’re here.”

Harry looked down at Hermione, his eyes haunted by the past, “Is it?”

Hermione silently nodded and tried to eat some egg only for her stomach to churn uncomfortably. 

“What do you want to do until Potions?” Harry asked before he filled his mouth with ham.

Hermione gave him a soft smile, “I think I want to take a walk,” Hermione said, “then made read until class.”

Harry nodded, and for the first time in a long time, Hermione felt like things were finally going to be normal. 

Normal, she thought, what an odd concept.

Slowly, other students came into the Great Hall, and soon after, owls came flying in. A small brown owl landed right in front of, a letter with Ron’s crude writing on the back. Hermione looked at Harry who raised his eyebrow in question.

Hermione took the letter and held it out so both she and Harry could read;

Hello Hermione and Harry,

I know that when you left for Hogwarts, we separated on a bad note and I want to make things right. 

Things here are going well, Ginny got a spot with the Harpies and the Cannons offered me a spot, but I turned them down. George is reopening the shop and I want to be there for him. George was over the moon when I told him I wanted to be his partner. I really think things are going to get better. 

Anyway, I’m going to be in Hogsmeade next week to see if we can open another shop there, and I want to see you two if you can make it.

Write back soon,  
Ron

P.S. The family says hello. 

Hermione looked at Harry, “He’s growing up,” she said with a smile.

“I think we all are,” Harry said, his eyes on the letter, “I’ll write him back when we get back to the room.”

After breakfast Hermione and Harry walked the ground for an hour, Hermione’s fatigue forcing them back to their room until lunch. She mostly played with the food on her plate, her mind already drifting from her. Harry insisted they go back to the room instead of going back outside so she could rest before class, and that they did, with Harry insisting that he would be able to write the letter to Ron sooner. 

Hermione settled in the loveseat, and stared blankly at the book in her hands, Before she knew it, it was time to go to Potions so the pair walked to the dungeons, and they talked about the coming week with Ron; what they would do, and that they would say.

Hermione and Harry sat in the second row, the ten other eighth years walked in, all sitting sparsely around the room. The clock stuck four and Snape walked in, his robes billowing behind him. 

Harry muttered something under his breathe about the potion’s professor, and Hermione smiled to herself. 

Snape had been one of the very few that she was able to heal during the Final Battle, and much to Snape’s disapproval, Hermione then spent several weeks visiting him in the hospital, often brining a compliant Harry and a disgruntled Ron with her.

Hermione was just sorry she couldn’t get the scar from Nagini to vanish completely. 

“As eighth years,” Snape began slowly, “you have a higher standard to abide by… so… pay attention.”

Snape glanced around the room, “Today,” he continued, “you will being a simple healing potion to jog your memory.”

Snape flicked his wrist and the instructions wrote themselves on the board. 

Harry huffed and pulled out the ingredients while Hermione just stared at the board. She remembered brewing this potion for a month after the battle which helped patients with physical wounds to heal faster. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw something flash in Malfoy’s hand. It was his silver potions knife. 

She immediately jerked away, falling to the ground. Harry, also had a more rusted knife in his hand, slowly morphed into someone he wasn’t. Someone who was dead. The same person who cut into her over and over again while she screamed. She looked around frantically, the room becoming the one of her nightmares. 

Hermione screamed. 

“Please don’t!” she choked, “I don’t know anything! I swear!”

The woman’s voice echoed in her head, taking her back to that day. To the pain. To the look on anguish Malfoy’s face. The way his father held him back, his mother whispered to him sternly. 

She started to back away, reminding herself that the woman was dead, that she was safe.

She heard something clatter on the floor, then something broke, and the next thing Hermione knew, it was Harry who was kneeling down in front of her, not Bellatrix. 

Hermione hid her face her hands only to find her cheeks were wet. When did she start crying?

“Herms,” Harry whispered, his cheeks streaked with tears, “Hermione, lets go.” 

Hermione’s head began to clear, and Malfoy Manor’s drawing room became the Potions classroom once again. The students were staring at her, and Snape was by her side, growling orders for someone to get Madam Pomfrey. 

“I’m okay,” Hermione rasped, looking into Snape’s surprisingly slightly concerned eyes, “I’m okay. The knife just scared me.”

Harry started at her, horror obvious in his green eyes. He helped her to her feet, supporting her as she stood in unsteady legs. 

“Take her to her room, Mr.Potter,” Snape snapped, “and the rest of you!” He turned, “Get back to work.”

Hermione half walked and was half dragged out the classroom and into the hallway. Hermione’s last glance caught Malfoy’s face which held the same expression it did at the Manor. 

Harry helped her up the stairs, his fingers digging into her side, and she was sure his tight grip would leave bruises. She eventually was able to walk by herself, only leaning on Harry occasionally for support. 

“I want to sit,” Hermione said, trying to even out her breathing, “I want to sit down.”

Harry nodded and helped her to a seat by the window facing the courtyard. She watched a few first years laughing and running around outside, the lighter echoing into the castle and down the hallways. 

She can’t remember being that young or being that free. This is what she fought for. Right?

“Let’s go, Harry,” She whispered, her eyes still trailed on the children. 

“Alright,” Harry replied, “Let’s go.”


	7. Chapter 7

Harry was worried. Three weeks had passed since the Potions incident. She spent most of her time locked in her room; she didn’t eat and slipped her homework under her door for Harry to teen in. 

It was safe to say that Harry was more than worried. 

He went to class, took notes for both himself and Hermione, picked up food from the Great Hall and went back to the room. He was only deviating from that schedule when he went to the library to find what was wrong with his best friend. 

Ron had sent a few letters after Harry had voiced his concern. Ron asked what he could do, how he could help.

And Harry angered honestly. There was nothing until they knew what was going on, and seeing that Hermione didn’t want to ask for help, it would take that much longer. 

It was early Saturday morning when Harry saw Hermione in their shared common room for the first time in weeks. She was dressed then thick baggy clothes, her Hogwarts scarf wrapped around her neck. She was thinner now, which Harry didn't think was possible. 

“Are you ready?” She asked.

Harry froze. Did she want to see Ron? Harry could have cried on the spot. She wanted to go outside and see their best friend. It’s had been a week before she had even started talking again after the incident. I’ll take what I can get, Harry decided.

Hermione looped her arm with Harry’s and started to rattle on about seeing Ron, how she was happy for him, that working with George would be good for him. 

Harry watched the fire spark in Hermione’s eyes, and for a moment he wondered if the two-week long seclusion and suffering in silence marked the end of it. Maybe he was getting his best friend back. 

“—What do you think Harry?” Hermione’s voice chimed. 

Harry blinked down at her, confusion clear, “What?”

Hermione laughed, “I was saying that maybe we should focus on Inter-House Unity!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms in front of her, “Wouldn’t it be great if we were all were civil with each other?”

“I think that would be great,” Harry whispered, awed by Hermione’s idealism, “we’ll talk on it more after we see Ron.”

Hermione nodded esthetically, linking her arm with Harry’s once again as they entered Hogsmeade. Harry dragged her right to The Three Broomsticks, and when they walked in, he immediately spotted a stock of red hair.

“Ron!” Hermione called, ripping away from Harry to throw her arms around their best friend. He picked her up easily, and his eyes widened in shock. 

Ron was shocked but wrapped his arms around the witch. Ron’s eyes met Harry’s, his eyebrows drawn in concern. 

“I missed you ‘Mione,” Ron whispered, his eyes still boring into Harry’s.

“It’s nice to see you, mate,” Harry said, chuckling at Hermione’s excitement. 

Ron let go of Hermione and hugged Harry tightly. “I’m worried mate,” he whispered in Harry’s ear. 

“We’ll talk later,” Harry whispered back. He felt Ron nod, the scruff on his cheek scraping Harry’s skin.

Hermione pulled out a chair and sat at the counter, inviting Harry and Ron to do the same. The trio talked, laughed, and drank butterbeer. Ron talked about how George seemed to be doing better and that he was so glad he decided to work at the shop. Ron eventually revealed, after three butterbeers, that he had re-connected with Susan Bones and that they had been on a few dates. 

Harry smiled as he watched his friend's face turn red in embarrassment. He turned to Hermione, who was beaming at Ron, a smile stretched across her face that didn't quite reach her eyes.

“We’re so happy for you, Ron,” Hermione said, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Ron smiled sadly at Hermione and looked like he was going to say something before she stood up, startling Harry. 

“Would you two mind if I went to the bookstore,” Hermione blushed, “The new Hogwarts a History should have been sale last week, and I wanted to go buy a copy.”

“I need to leave soon, but we’ll owl,” Ron stated. 

Ron looked at Harry, giving him a meaningful look. “Go ahead, ‘Mi,” Harry said, “I’ll be here.”

Hermione nodded, hugged Ron with a heartfelt goodbye, and rushed out of The Three Broomsticks, leaving Harry alone with Ron, both of them staring at the door she talked out of.

“Harry,” Ron rasped, his eyes, growing red, “I know you said she was sick, but she’s so small now… She’s lost so much more weight.”

Harry bite inside of his cheek, “She had a bad two weeks,” Harry fair before he stopped himself, “She’s had a rough few months but… I think she’s doing better. Today was the first time she left her room in tow weeks, so that has to be progress, right?”

Ron nodded, but he looked like he was a million miles away. 

“What are we going to do, Harry?” Ron whispered, his leg began to bounce, a tell-tale of his growing anxiety.

Harry considered him for a moment, “I'll owl you if we need something. I swear.” he said, “And maybe ask Bill if he knows anything about curses that cause this kind of thing.”

Ron nodded, “You got it.” He stood up and put two gallons on the counter, “I’ll owl you when I have an answer… and tell me if anything changes.”

Ron pulled his robes on and gave Harry a final goodbye before leaving. 

Harry was alone in the pub, except for a few lingering students, after Ron's departure. He ordered another butterbeer and sipped it slowly while he waited for Hermione to return. 

Not five minutes after he started on his drink, someone with striking hazel eyes slipped next to Harry. Harry internally groaned, he didn’t want to deal with anyone right now, let alone Zabini.

“So something is wrong with, Granger,” Zabini said, “I mean, she missed all our classes since the potions thing, and it’s obvious she lost more weight.”

“Go away, Zabini,” Harry huffed, taking a large gulp of his drink. 

Zabini only scooted closer, leaning over to Harry, “Why? Do bother you?” He said with a sly smile. 

Harry rolled his eyes, taking a sip. “Yes,” Harry replied, “and you’re in my personal space.”

“I think you like me in your personal space,” Zabini teased, his nervousness betraying him for a moment.

Harry’s grip on his glass tightened, and he took a calming breath which was enough time for Zabini to get ahold of his emotions. 

“Potter,” Zabini said, smiling a Slytherin’s smile at Harry. “Why don’t we ask for a room—”

The door chimed, and Harry thanked whatever god was listening when he saw Hermione walking towards him. Her eyes were focused on the floor, and her hand on her card forearm. 

Harry stood up and met her in the middle of the room, quickly forgetting Zabini’s presents.

“Can we go, Harry?” She whispered, “I want to lay down,”

“Did you get your book?” Harry watched as Hermione’s eyes fill with tears. “Did something happen?” 

Hermione shook her head, her mouth turning awkwardly, “No,” she whispered, “I just wanna go now.”

Harry looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. He put down gallons on the counter, gave a curt nod to Zabini, then walked out with Hermione, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. 

He looked down at his best friend while they walked. Her eyes were hollow again, the bags underneath them darker then they were days before. 

They walked back in silence, Harry holding Hermione close to him, knowing that things would turn around again.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione had done all that was expected of her when she got back from the Hogsmeade trip. She attended classes, sat in the Great Hall for meals, and talked to her peers, but when she was alone she would let the silence consume her. 

It was Harry who would bring her back when she would drift into her head. He would ask what was wrong, but she wouldn’t speak to him. He had slowly become her keeper, trying to pull her out of whatever was suffocating her. 

But she tried to shield him as much as she could from these episodes.

Hiding became harder and harder and it never helped. By the time snow had begun to fall, she had said no more than ten words since returning to Hogwarts after seeing Ron. 

Ron.

Harry had written Ron several times since they saw him. Harry would often read the letters to Hermione, but she noticed he would skip over large blocks of text. Those were about her, she knew it, but she couldn’t find herself to care. 

The professors had noticed her state quite early, and most would try to get her to participate in the classes, calling on her when they asked questions even when she didn’t raise her hand. Snape was the only one who had accepted her silence. He had begun pre-cut all her ingredients so she wouldn’t have to touch a knife, excusing her from class when he saw the bad days hung over her head. 

It was kind of him, but Hermione could see the pity in his eyes like she saw in everyone else’s eyes. But with Snape, she also saw the understanding, which made her feel something.

Hermione Granger was no longer the brightest witch of her age, people whisper around her. 

The war had addled her brain, her time under Bellatrix’s wand destroyed what was left of her. 

It was Snape who demanded all other professors leave her be. To let her cope however she saw fit. 

But in her silence she saw that others didn’t. She saw how McGonagall’s hands shook when a student’s laugh sounded too much like cries. How Hagrid had taken to his creatures to cope with the losses. How Madame Pomfrey handed Professors Flitwick and Sprout small vials of calming draught in the mornings under the table. 

Only Snape seemed normal. This had always been his reality after all. 

The students were interesting as well. Most Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had banded together in a silent pact to attempt to restore some normalcy, helping the younger students who has been there during the Carrow’s reign. The Gryffindors watched the Slytherins with contempt and suspicion, and the Slytherins, they just wanted to be left alone. None more so than Malfoy, who’s bruises had become a common sight that no one spoke of.

But it was Zabini who had intrigued her most. The looks he would send Harry, only to look away when Harry’s eyes would meet his. The soft blush of her best friend’s cheeks when he caught the other boy looking his way always brought a small smile to Hermione’s face. 

Maybe she’ll ask Harry about. Maybe she’ll wait till he’s ready. 

This silent cycle of breakfast, class, lunch, class, dinner, class, then room would go on without halt until one late one night; after a rather difficult potions assignment when Snape dismissed all eighth years but her.

“Miss.Granger,” His voice echoed in the mostly empty classroom, “stay behind.”

Harry had tried to stay with her, but Snape demanded he leave, which Harry begrudgingly did, stating he would be in the common room. 

Snape had sat at his desk, and Hermione at hers. She stared at the board behind the greasy haired professors head, wanting nothing more than to disappear on the spot. 

“We are… worried… about you, Miss. Granger,” Snape had drawled.

Hermione stared on and Snape huffed, standing up and making his way to Hermione. He sat across from her, dragging a chair loudly to do so. 

“You need to speak to someone,” Snape said coldly, “Im Sure Potter would—”

“—Did you?“ Hermione’s voice came out hoarse from the lack of use, “Talk to someone? About what you went through? About what was done to you?”

“No.” Snape stated, “But you are not me.”

“I’m not me either,” Hermione replied after a moment, tears threatening to spill over her hollow cheeks. She stood slowly, finding it difficult to get a semblance of balance on her wobbly and weak legs. “I’m leaving now.” She said, “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Hermione took he quill and parchment, the only two items she now took to class, and stuffed them into her pocket before turning away.

She walked out of the room and Snape watched her. 

Hermione walked straight to the one place she thought she would find solitude, the place where not even ghosts ventured anymore. The Astronomy Tower. 

She tiredly climbed up the stairs and when she reached the top, walked to the still destroyed ledge. She kicked down a small piece of wood, watching it fall to the ground several meters below. 

This is a movement to the war. The place that marked the start of her pain. 

A gentle breeze blew, cooling her already cold face further. 

“Planing on jumping, Granger?” Malfoy’s voice rang out behind her.. 

Hermione sighed, and turned meeting Malfoy’s eyes, who slowly appeared from the shadows protection. He looked haggard, his cloths hung off his body much like hers did, but he wasn’t as thin as he was during their 6th year. 

“Maybe,” Hermione said, “or would you much rather push the mudblood off the tower for bragging rights.”

Malfoy advanced on her, sneering as he did so, “Don’t use that word.” He said through gritted teeth, poison dripping on every syllable.

“I remember a time where that word was commonplace in our conversations,” Hermione said numbly, watching the light filtering though the holes in the roof.

Hermione turned back to the ledge, letting more tears snake down her cheeks. From the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy settle in the spot next to her, his blond hair shining in the moonlight. She could see his hand reaching into his inner robes to pull out a handkerchief before holding it out to her. 

“For your face,” He whispered, his eyes still trailed on the Forbidden Forest in the distance. 

Hermione didnt take it, instead she slightly angled her jaw towards him, “what happened to your’s?”

His jaw tightened and he turned to her, “A few disagreements here and there,” he said. He took her hand and shoved the handkerchief into it, “Now wipe your face, I don’t like to see you cry.”

Hermione’s eyes drifted back to the horizon, “You didn’t seem to mind when I was withering on your drawing room floor a little over 6 months ago.”

Malfoy’s breathing hitched and for a moment Hermione felt guilty for her careless words. She had seen him that day. She had seen how much he wanted to stop his crazy aunt from torturing her. 

He made a wet sound that pulled Hermione’s attention away form the past and onto him.

“I’m sorry.” Came his ragged reply.

Hermione turned to him fully, using the handkerchief to sloppy wipe away her tears, trying not to be too rough on his bruised face. 

“I don’t be,” Hermione said, her and moving to her scarred forearm, “You weren’t holding the knife. I don’t blame you. My words were cruel. There was nothing you could have done.”

Malfoy bowed his head, his hair blocking her view of his face. His shoulders shook with as he tried to control himself. He slowly sank to the ground, his quiet sobs becoming heaving cries. 

Hermione sank with him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders like Harry had done to her during their time on the run, her thumb stroking him softly. 

“It’s alright, Malfoy,” Hermione whispered, “things will get better one day.”

She had to believe that, or there would be no point to anything. 

Malfoy leaned into her, taking in her comfort, and she found herself leaning into him too. They stayed huddled against each other for a long time, until the both of them drifted into sleep against a scorched wall. 

The stars had slowly begun to fade, and a soft glow rose as the sun did. As the pair woke, becoming aware of the new day, they did not move.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small smut-y-ish here near the end. Just as a warning

Harry sat in the common room while he waited for Hermione to return. He drew his knees to his chest, and waited. Minutes turned into hours and hours turned into sunrise.

Several times through the night, Harry considered looking at the map to see if Hermione was okay. If she was safe.

But that would be a betrayal. At least to Harry. She deserved her space, his conscious told him, she would tell me if something was wrong.

Harry had been drifting in and out of sleep when Hermione finally came back. The sun was well above the horizon when she walked in, shoes in hand, and a thoughtful smile on her face.

Harry scrambled off of the couch, his fists on his hips, "Where have you been!" he asked "I was worried.”

Hermione's eyes darted to him like she didn't even know he was there, "Sorry, Harry," she whispered, "I think I made a friend tonight.”

Harry deflated slightly, his shoulders hushing over, "A friend?" Harry repeated.

Hermione nodded, "Have you been up all night waiting for me? Im sorry if you were!”

Harry walked over and put his arm over Hermione's shoulders. "Yeah, wasn't a big deal though," he lied, "just, tell me nest time, Okay? Send a potronus or something.”

Harry let Hermione to their rooms, a yawn escaping him half way up the stairs.

"We have class in an hour," Hermione tsked, "we have to get ready."  
Harry laughed, "Says the girl who didn't go to class for two weeks and is still passing.”

Hermione stilled, her body growing ridged under Harry's touch. Harry immediately understood his mistake. Guilt constricted his chest and he tuned to her.

"Im sorry, Hermione," Harry whispered, "I didn't mean it that way."  
Hermione puled away from Harry, her shoulder curling forward. "It's okay, maybe we should skip class today…" Hermione walked to her door and slipped inside her room, "I'm a little tired, I'll talk to you later.”

Harry watched dumbly as Hermione shut the door in his face. He shouldn't have said it. It was too soon. He awkwardly stood in front of Hermione's doors until he was sure she wouldn't come back out.

He would apologize again later.

Harry eventually made his way over to the bed, he peeled off his cloths, and didn't bother changing into night cloths. He flicked his wand, effectively shutting the curtains and darkening the room, before setting it under his pillow.

As always, he stared at the ceiling, taking deep breaths. He tried to think of his friend in the next room, trying to understand how he could make her feel better, but his mind kept going to the Italian wizard who sat with him at the pub.

Harry thought of the entire conversation. Of Zabini in his personal space, and something stirred under the sheets.

Harry flushed, and tried his best to ignore. It didn't work.

He shot out of bed and decided that maybe a walk would help clear his head. He stepped into his shoes and walked out of the common room.

He walked down the corridors and let his fingers graze the cold, damp, stone of the castle. It was not a year ago that these hallways were painted with the blood of his friends, and his enemies.

It pained him sometimes, coming back here, but it was a double edged sword.

He and Hermione needed to be here, but he wondered if it was doing more harm than good.

Harry tried his best to avoid all other students while they walked to and fro their classes. He would duck into empty classrooms and wait until the crowds of students had gone to their next classed before he started wandering again.

The professors saw him, but said nothing. A lot of the students who fought in the final battle had opted to ditch classes and take the time to themselves. The professors saw no fault in it as long as they did their assignments and talked to the professors when things got really tough. Especially after Hermione's episode a month back.

It was safe to say the survivors were okay with the arraignment. Most still went to classes, Hermione and Malfoy were the tow who would much rather just turn in assignments and stay in their rooms all day.

At least, that's that Harry heard.

Time passed quickly and when Harry hid from the other students for the third time he stumbled on Blaise Zabini and a seventh year Ravenclaw boy in a compromising position.

The Ravenclaw was on his knees, his head bobbing on Zabini's hardened length, who had his fingers tangled in the kneeling boy's hair. Zabini's head was thrown back in pleasure, but his eyes were trailed on Harry, a small smirk growing on his lips before he released a deep, guttural moan, his body stiffening as he did so.

Harry felt heat travel to his cheeks, his loins stir, so he ran out of the small space like it was on fire. With his head downturned, he all but ran back to the common room.

Hermione had been on the couch reading when she looked up to him in surprise. Before she could say anything, Harry ran into the bathroom shouting "I need a shower!", slamming the door behind him.

He kicked off his shoes and ripped off his clothes, stepping under the ice cold spray of water.

Harry hopped that it would help his growing erection. He tentatively took hold of it, stroking himself slowly. The image if Zabini's head thrown back made Harry moan.

In his head, it wasn't the seventh year Ravenclaw on his knees, but Harry himself.

He pressed his forehead against the cool tiles, his long, slow strokes quickened as he quickly approached his climax. He bit his lip to try and suppress his moans, conscious that Hermione was in the next room.

He stiffened, his body arching as he came on the white stone and hand and he couldn't stop the long, drawn out, moan that escaped him.  
As he slowly came down from his natural high, he realized what he had done.

He just masterbated to the thought of Blaise Zabini. Blaise Zabini, a boy. Harry cleaned up after himself, watching his release swirl down the drain,, desperate to wash away the evidence.

He turned off the water, and stepped out of the bathroom, casting a drying charm on himself. He re-dressed in his uniform and walked down to the common room, where Hermione still sat.

"You okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned.

Harry walked over and sat next to his bushy haired best friend. "I just had to… take care of something," he muttered.

Hermione nodded, "Did it turn out okay?" she whispered cautiously.

Harry flushed, looking away from Hermione out of embarrassment, "I guess so.”

"Im glad then." Hermione said, a small smile on her face.

Harry nodded and stood up, wiping his clay hands on his trousers. He cleared his throat, "I'm going to the library. Want to come?" Changing the topic, "You haven't gone since we got back.”

Hermione tucked her legs underneath her bum, shrugging as she looked back down at her book. "I'm find here," she whispered, "You go ahead.”

Harry nodded, silently glad that he would be able do research without Hermione's prying eyes. Harry said his goodbye before walking out of the door. Silently, he tricked down the hallway, thinking back to an hour ago, deciding that he would avoid Zabini as much as he possibly could.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione spent most of her days curled up on the couch reading and doing homework. She would go to potions, the only class she would go to religiously, and she would pick at her plate during meals, her already frail stature was growing frailer still.

At first, it was the Gryffindor's who would send her concerned looks. Then the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, would send her smiles and encouraging looks when she took a bite of food. Then finally, the Slytherins, who had been mostly quiet since the start of the term had begun to whisper about her.

The house relations were slowly improving. It was Luna who had decided one morning to sit with the Slytherins, then slowly after that, everyone, even the Gryffindors, began to mend the bridges.

It was safe to say McGonagall approved.

However, Draco Malfoy, and by extension Blaise Zabini, who were still the odd men out. They sat in the back, bruises of different stages of healing still evident on Malfoy's skin.

Draco Malfoy was who Hermione's nights were given to.

They would meet in the astronomy tower, and sit together. Sometimes he would cry, and sometimes they would sit in silence . After a week, they started to talk, mostly about mundane things, like the weather which took up most of their conversations.

The second time they met, it was a disaster. Draco had been throwing curses and hexes to the walls. He was screaming, and from the sound of it, he had been for a long time. It took him a moment to realize Hermione was there, and when he saw here large brown eyes looking at him, he broke down further. Hermione went to him and he clung to her, apologizing over and over.

Hermione had forgiven him, but she didn't need to. The war wasn't his fault, he was a pawn like they all were.

He calmed down hugging her waist, his head on her stomach. Hermione whispered kind words to him, and played with his hair until he fell asleep. In the morning, he thanked her and asked to see her to see her again the next night.

Hermione agreed, but she was going to come if he hadn't asked her.

It was after the third day that Hermione noticed that the voices and screams of war where quieter with she was with him. It was because he understood like Snape did, she reasoned. There was no judgment, no malice, or pity.

Draco, Hermione noticed, had changed since the war. He was still witty, and arrogant at times, but also kind and considerate when it came to people he cared about.

Hermione once had fallen asleep and when she woke, Draco's thigh the pillow for her head, his robe draped over her like a blanket.

It had been two weeks since they started to met in secret when things had changed.

"You're here early," Malfoy whispered upon entering the towers top room.

"Or are you late?" Hermione teased. She hid a basket small basket behind her. Molly had been sending her and Harry sweets, and Hermione couldn't think of a better person to offer her share to.

"Malfoys are never late," He said immediately with a wave of arrogance, then, after a moment, chocked down his words, staring at Hermione wide eyed.

Hermione smiled at him sadly, "You know it's okay to be proud of your family?" She whispered, approaching him slowly, "There is no shame in it."

Draco nodded, pushing the hair out of his face. Hermione's stomach turned when the moonlight shined on Draco's new black eye.

"Who—"

"Don't ask questions, Granger," Draco warned half hardly.

He moved to sit by the ledge of destroyed tower, Hermione following closely after, sitting next to Draco, setting the basket aside.

They sat, legs dangling, looking up at the cloud clad skies.

"Will you let me heal it?" Hermione whispered. When he didn't answer, Hermione scooted closer to the blond, "Please?"

Malfoy gave her a look, sadness and pain evident, before nodding and turning towards her. Hermione pulled out her wand slowly, knowing that Draco would flinch at the moment. She pointed her wand at him, his face stony cold, and muttered healing spells. The bruises slowly started to disappear, the swelling along with it. Hermione cupped Draco's cheek gently, her thumb brushing over where the bruises used to be.

"Thank you," Draco whispered, nuzzling into her touch.

Hermione gave his cheek one final stroke before dropping her hand, his brows pulled immediately at the loss of warmth.

"You're welcome," Hermione replied, "I really don't like seeing you hurt, Draco."

The tips of his ears reddened slightly at her words, a shy smile tugging the corners of his lips.

Hermione reached over and put the basket between them. "I brought you something," Hermione said, "I know you like sweets, so I saved some of the sweets Mrs. Weasley sent us."

Draco's hands carefully moved over the basket, "My mum used to send me sweets." Draco sniffled, "She doesn't anymore."

They hadn't talked about their parents before now. It hurt too much.

Hermione knew that both Lord and Lady Malfoy survived the war, house arrest and magical monitoring their punishment but that didn't mean it was any less painful.

Hermione watched him closely, putting her hand over his, "I'm sorry if I brought up bad memories," Hermione said, "that wasn't my intention."

"No, no," Draco said, wiping his face of tears with his free hand, "this was kind of you… Thank you."

Draco opened the basket when Hermione removed her hand from his. He pulled out a cauldron cake and splitting it in two, giving half to Hermione.

"Eat," Malfoy said, "you look like a corpse."

Hermione chuckled, taking a bite of the cake. She ate slowly, and Draco watched her was every bite, holding out his half of cake when she finished.

"It's for you," Hermione said when he took her hand and set the sweet in her palm.

"You need it more," Draco smiled as she took another bite. "I also brought you something."

He reached into his robes much like the first time they set in the tower. He handed Hermione a poorly wrapped gift, tight in some places, and tattered and loose in others.

Hermione fingered purple the paper with a smile, "Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"You haven't even opened it," Draco said, resting his cheek on his bent knee.

Hermione opened the gift, careful not to tear the paper. It was a book, she just knew it was. When she removed the last of the wrapping, she froze.

It was a first edition of Hogwarts a History.

Hermione's eyes darted up to Draco's. His eyes were sparkling with excitement, and he looked like he was trying his best not to bounce off the walls.

"This…" Hermione ran her hand over the cover, "This it too much… "

Draco gave a shrug, "I always noticed that you had it with you… even before," he paused, sucking a breath, "well, before."

Hermione nodded, "I wanted to get the new one when I went to Hogsmeade… I couldn't go into the bookstore."

Draco's brows furrowed, his head tilted to the side. "Why? You're swottiest person I know." He joked.

Hermione gave him a sad smile.

"I remember running past it, the bookstore, when we were going to Hogwarts for the final battle…" She began, "it was in pieces the books were in pieces. And I couldn't see more than the war. When I tried to walk in, I couldn't because I kept going back to that day. And… something went wrong." Hermione huffed, "The one think that made me feel safe, being around books, has been ruined for me."

Draco nodded in understanding, scooting closer, "What went wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione's voice was quiet, almost in-audible above the howl of the wind.

Draco averted his eyes for a moment, awkward tension filling the air. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. "I can understand the bad memories, that's why I can't go to the seventh floor." He said, his voice tight, "After Crabbe, I cant go back there."

Hermione's head started to spin, but she didn't think much of it, she must need some sleep. Or food. Or both.

"I think I want to go to my room," Hermione said, "I'm dizzy."

Hermione tried to stand but she swayed. Draco jumped up and held her upright, supporting her until she got some control of her body.

"Woah, you alright there, Granger?" Draco asked, he breath warm against the top of Hermione's head.

Hermione rested her head on Draco's shoulder nodding weakly, "You should call me Hermione." She whispered, "All my friends call me Hermione."

Draco looked down at her with a thoughtful, dare she say hopeful, look, "And we're friends?" He whispered.

"Do you want to be?" Hermione smiled. She stood up straight and looked Draco right in the eye.

"I do," he answered. His lips curved up, and Hermione couldn't help but to smile too.

His eyes darted down to Hermione's lips, them back to her eyes. She felt gooseflesh rise on her arms and back. Draco moved his head down and impulsively, Hermione leaned forward, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

Before their lips met, her body stiffened, and her breath was ripped out of her lungs. She fell out of Draco's grip, her hear slamming against the hard, wooden floor.

The last thing she remembered was her name being repeated over and over.

Then suddenly everything grew cold.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry left Hermione in the common room for the library and felt awful about it. He shouldn't leave her alone as often as he did. She needed him like he had needed her in the past, but he needed to find out what was wrong with her.

Whatever was happening wasn't normal. Not by a long shot.

When he was about halfway there Harry began to hear soft footsteps behind him. His hand slowly went to the wand on his hip, a habit from being on the run, and he prepared himself for a battle. With one swift move he had his wand drawn at the throat of whoever decided it was a wise idea to follow the boy-who-lived.

Harry found himself looking into the mocha eyes of Blaise Zabini.

Harry had been so good about avid him. It had been one week, six days and 10 hours since he made the decision to avoid the wizard.

"Hold it, Potter," Zabini said in a panic, his hands up in surrender.

"Why were you following me?" Harry asked, venom clear on his tone, his eyes on the other boys wide eyes, "Shouldn't you be terrorizing the youth with Malfoy?"

Zabini sneered at Harry, "If you haven't noticed, Potter" he spat, "Draco hasn't been doing much of anything." Zabini managed to looked arrogant even when a want was pointed at him. He took a moment and regained his composure despite having a wand to his neck before saying, "And don't think so highly of yourself… I have more on my plate than follow you around."

Harry dropped his arm, sheathing his wand back in its holster, "Sorry…" He began, "… Are you going to the library, too."

Zabini gave a curt nod, "I was hoping Draco was there… I've been looking for him since he didn't show up for dinner… Have you seen him?"

Harry shook his head, his mind going back to the map in his trunk. "Ill tell you if I do."

Zabini nodded, and together they made their way down to the library with a little over two hours before it closed for the night. Harry could feel the taller boy's eyes on him, and it made him grow warm, his face reddening slightly with a light blush. Zabini made a noise, like he was going to say something, but he cut himself off, rushing away.

Harry quickly made it to the restricted section and picked up every book that he thought would have details about dealing with curses and illness.

He took his small pile of books and began to read thought them with Hermione in mind. Slowly, his stuck of books had become a mountain as books referenced others.

As time ticked on, Harry felt eyes on him. He forever his eyes off the text in front of him to find Zabini watching him from between the books in the closest shelf.

"Come and have a seat." Harry said, trying to play it cool, "You might as well be comfortable when you're watching me."

Harry pushed the chair across from him out with his foot, the legs screeching against the floor. Zabini walked over and took the seat.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, his attention back onto the book about curses and torture, desperately trying to forget what he caught Zabini doing.

"Are you planning to curse someone," Zabini said the poorly laid out joke nervously.

Harry paused, "No." He said through grit teeth, "I'm tired of cursing and hurting people… I'm looking stuff up for a friend."

Zabini swallowed thickly, "Is it for Granger? Is it because of what's been happening to her?"

Harry hesitated, and looked into Zabini's eyes. There was no cruelty to his words, but instead of answering, Harry put his book down and pushed his glassed up. "And what exactly has been happening to her?" He asked, when his question was left hanging in the air, he deiced to change the topic, "How's Malfoy?"

Zabini stilled, his eyes wide with shock. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh come on, Zabini." Harry began, "You say that like no one sees the bruises all over his face every morning."

The tension was thick between them as neither boy spoke, instead deciding that staring each other down would be a better use of their time. Zabini looked uncontrollable under Harry's gaze, crossing his arms and shrinking slightly into himself.

Harry went back to his books, which, to his disappointment, didn't detail about the effects of the Cruciatus in the way he hoped. Pain, short term memory, insanity, and death were what they learned was the result of the curse, but not much on that front. Harry bent over text after text that said the same thing. That it hasn't been investigated.

Funny, Harry though bitterly, he would think that people wanted to know more about the curse that has ruined so many lives.

Harry angrily through what was the six book that told him the same thing, growing frustrated with the lack of answers. Maybe he Gould contact St. Mungos. Maybe someone there knew what was happening to Hermione.

"Oi!" Zabini shouted, jumping up from his seat, "What did the book ever do to you?"

Zabini walked over and picked up the book that had landed in the center aisle between shelves.

"I would think that after seven years around swot Granger, you would have learned to respect a book or two," Zabini huffed, putting be boom back onto the table after inspecting it for damage.

Harry buried his head in his hands. He took several long and seep breaths attempting to calm himself.

It didn't work.

"Are you going to tell me why you're really here?" Harry asked, his head still down.

Zabini sat back down, "I want to know why you're avoiding me."

Harry's head snapped up and his eyes widened in shock, "I'm— I'm not avoiding you," Harry stuttered out, trying to fight the heat that steadily rose to his face.

"Was it because you saw something you liked," Zabini whispered, his eyes darkening.

"No," Harry said, his mouth went dry.

Zabini leaned forward, his hands flattened firmly on the table, a sly smile on his face, "Is it something that you want done to you? Something you want to do?"

He reached out and fingered Harry's robes, the gesture sending shivers down Harry's spine.

"Do you want me to crawl under the table and suck you off?" Zabini said, and Harry exhaled, "Or, is it the other way around. Do you want to wrap your lips around my cock? Do you want to suck me off like you saw Daniel do two weeks ago, or do you want me to hold you by the hair and fuck your mouth."

Harry gasped, his trousers began to grow tight at Zabini's words. It was too much. He wanted it more than he cared to admit.

Zabini moistened his lips, his eyes darted down to the bugle between Harry's legs. Harry scooted his chair further under the table to hide himself.

"So the boy wonder had a dirty little secret," Zabini said, "Don't worry," he winked, "I won't tell."

"I— um— don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, turning his reddening face away from Zabini.

"I think the erection says different." Zabini said. Then he paused for a moment to examine Harry closely, "What? Are you ashamed?"

Harry shook his head and slowly stood up, leaning in to whisper, "I'm not sure I'm actually… you know… It's just a phase I'm sure."

Zabini chucked, "Its not."

Harry felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, and he leaned in closer.

"Is this why you broke up with Weaselette?" Zabini asked.

"No," Harry breathed a lie, shaking his head again.

Zabini moved closer, eyes slightly darkened, making Harry's insides squirm. He leaned closer, their faces inches apart, and said "But, you and Weaselette… "

"It just didn't work out…" Harry whispered, short of breath, "We wanted different things…"

"Like what?" Zabini whispered back, biting his lip.

"Like—" Harry responded, his eyes on Zabini's mouth.

There was a throat cleared from behind Zabini, and the boys jerked away from each other, "Gentlemen," McGonagall said sternly, "I hope your evening is going well…"

"Yes Headmistress—" Zabini whispered.

"Yes, Ma'm!" Harry shouted shooting even further back from Zabini. "We weren't doing anything!"

"Well —"

"We just were standing too close together!—"

"I don't really—"

"He had something in his eye—"

"Please, Harry," McGonagall said, stopping Harry's rambling.

Dread immediately filled Harry. She hadn't called him Harry since right after the final battle, and never again after that.

Who had died?

Harry looked at the older witch, the lines on her face making her look older than she was. It reminded him that she had lived though and fought in two wars.

"There's been an incident, Harry," McGonagall said gravely. "Hermione is in the infirmary."

Harry jumped out of his seat, blood pounding in his ears. Harry barley register Zabini gasping, before the Headmistress was the only thing he could focus on. He looked like he was going to be sick.

Harry stumbled around the table, "Wha—"

"She lost consciousness," McGonagall whispered.

But before the witch could finish, Harry bolted to the library doors. He ran as fast as he could across the castle, silently praying to the Powers That Be for his best friend, his sister in everything but blood, to be okay.

Somewhere behind him, he heard footsteps following being him, calling his name, but he didn't care. He needed to go to Hermione.


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione was groggy when she slowly woke up. She felt almost like she did when she was petrified in second year.

Her heart started to pound in her chest as her panic froze. She couldn't do that again.

She forced an eye open and her world immediacy washed in a bright light. She gave herself a moment to let her eyes just before she looked around.

She felt her toe twitch and relieve washed her. She wasn't frozen in place.

No, she was in the infirmary.

Hermione turned her head to see Draco talking to Madam Pomfrey. He was shaking, his eyes were swollen and puffy as words fumbled out of his mouth.

Had he been crying?

Why?

"I don't know what happened!" Draco cried, "We were about to— then he she just started convulsing!" He started to breath faster, his breaths short and shallow.

"Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey said, grabbing on to the distressed boy's arm to hols him up, "you need to calm down or I have to sedate you. It wouldn't do anyone good to have you in here too.”

Draco nodded quickly, the hair that wasn't sticking to his forehead flying up and down.

"Did I bring her in time?" Draco rasped, "Is she going to be okay?”

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy," the healer said.

"Will she—" Draco started.

"— She'll be okay," the witch said, turning to pluck a potion from the shelf "we don't know what's wrong, but she'll be okay. Now sit down."  
Draco sat next to Hermione's bed, "Okay," he breathed, he looked down to Hermione and his brows jumped up on his forehead, "you're awake!"  
Madam Pomfrey rushed over, and helped her sit up, only to press a potion to her lips.

"My goodness!" the older witch said, "How are you feeling, my dear?"  
Hermione chocked down the sickly sweet potion, coughing as she swallowed the last bit down. She felt Draco's knuckle brush up against hers and she took the opportunity to grasp his hand. He jumped at the sudden contact but gave her an encouraging smile.

"I feel like I was hit by a truck," Hermione rasped.

Madam Pomfrey nodded in understanding, "The potion should take hold soon." The healer said, "Just give it a moment.”

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"You had a seizure, Granger," Draco replied instead of the Mediwitch, "Merlin, I was so scared.”

"Im sorry," She whispered, "I didn't mean too.”

He gave a disbelieving, harsh, chuckle, "You have no reason to apologize," he said, "just don't scare me like that again.”

Hermione nodded, resting back against the pillows and turning her body to face Draco, her fingers still tightly intertwined with Draco’s.

The motion slowly started to take effect, and just as Hermione felt her muscles relax. Draco tightened his hold on Hermione's hand and he used his free one to gently caress her cheek. Neither said anything, but the silence wants uncomfortable, it was soft and warm.

There was a loud crash, the doors to the infirmary flew open than shut loudly as Harry ran through them.

"Herms!" Harry's panic tone echoed, “Hermione?"

The mediwitch came bustling out of her office, her lips pulled in a frown, "Mr. Potter!" She scolded, "Do not make a ruckus in my infirmary!”

Harry ignored the older witch and moved to Hermione's bed when he saw her.

Hermione smiled at him, happy to see her best friend there, but his smile faded when he say the boy she was with.

"Malfoy," Harry spat, charging up to him, ripping him out of his chair and away from Hermione. He slammed Draco into the wall and lifted him off the floor, "What did you do to her?”

Madam Pomfrey pulled out her wand and pointed it at Harry, hesitant to use it.

"Harry!" Hermione said, forcing her body off the bed, grabbing hold of Harry's arm in desperation, “Stop!"

"I didnt do anything," Draco whispered, his still red eyes cold and distant.

Draco closed his eyes when Harry didn't let up and he waited for the blow, but it never came. Hermione looked at Harry with fire in her eyes, her hand tightly around Harry's fist.

"Hermi—" Harry started but shut his mouth as soon as he saw Hermione's glare.

"Down. Now." Hermione said. Her legs had begun to wobble, and she didn't think she could stand much longer.

Harry dropped Draco and Hermione huffed, and fell back onto the mattress, short of breath.

"You okay, Draco?" Hermione asked, taking deep breathes to catch her breath.

Draco nodded, stepping further away from Harry and Hermione. It wasn't more than a minute before McGonagall and Blaise Zabini came rushing in.

Hermione fell back against the pillows, and Madam Pomfrey rushed over and ran diagnostic spells over her.

"Miss. Granger," McGonagall said, "how do you feel?”

"I've been better," Hermione said, her eyes on Draco, who seemed to shrink into himself, "I'm glad Draco got me here safely.”

Hermione saw Blaise and Draco exchange a look, but she decided it was more concern than anything else.

"Right," McGonagall said, "do you know what happened?”

Harry sat next to Hermione, Pomfrey standing by. Blaise stepped away from McGonagall and opted to step out of the infirmary. Draco watched from a distance, his lower lip pulled between his teeth.

"I passed out, I think," Hermione said.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, "You had a seizure, and you're also horrendously under weight, which I doubt helped the situation." She handed Hermione a vial of potion for nutrition, and another to keep any future seizures at bay. "How long have you been losing weight? Have you had any seizures before?”

Hermione was about to speak when Harry sat up, "No! She would have told me!" He declared, "She promised she would tell me if anything was wrong.”

Hermione looked away from Harry, her pale face grew slightly pink on her cheeks.

"Once," Hermione whispered, her face downturned, "When we went to Hogsmeade. It happened in an ally but it had dent happened since." She paused glancing up at Harry's hurt expression, "Well… until today.”

The room was quiet, and guilt slowly ate at Hermione. She should have told Harry, or Madam Pomfrey or anyone. But it wasn't a big deal. It would get better eventually.

"So thats why you were so upset?" Harry asked, "Why didn't you tell me?”

Hermione shook her head, "I didnt think it was important.”

Malfoy snorted, "Of course it is.”

Harry sent Malfoy a glare, his teeth grinding together, "I think it has to do with what happened at the manor… with that woman." Harry said, "I've been doing some research and I think that was why.”

Malfoy's face fell, a calculating look in his eye.

"Harry!" Hermione said, "Stop looking at him like that, its not his fault.”

"He didn't do anything to help!" Harry exclaimed, enraged. McGonagall watched the scene with curiosity turning to Zabini for answers.

"I don't blame him," Hermione protested.

"Well, I do!" Harry said, "If he had helped—“

"Dont you dare Harry!" Hermione said, anger clear in her tone.

McGonagall stepped between Hermione and Harry, "We'll figure it out," she said, "I'll talk to Snape and see if he can figure something out. Now, please calm yourself, it would do anyone anything good for you to overexert yourself. And , leave if you can't quell your anger. “

Hermione nodded, her body relaxing against the pillows. The Headmistress was right, she had over taxed herself.

"Miss. Granger needs her rest," Madam Pomfrey said, "you all need to leave.”

McGonagall gave a curt nod as her goodbye before gliding out of the room. Harry squeezed Hermione's hand tightly, guilt apparent, then stood up, only to reach for her hand again, before reluctantly releasing it.

Zabini followed Harry, whispering that he would wait for Draco outside.

Draco was the last to leave, he approached Hermione slowly and bent down kissing her cheek softly.

"Get better soon," Draco whispered in her ear, "the astronomy tower will be lonely without you.”

Hermione smiled at the pink that slowly filled his cheeks.  
"I will," Hermione whispered back.

He left her in the infirmary with Madam Pomfrey, who fed her a sleeping draught before disappearing into her office.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry split his time between Hermione in the infirmary and the library for the week following Hermione's incident.

Hermione, who was usually sleeping, seemed to have deteriorated rapidly. Her already thin frame had become nearly skeletal, and any food she managed to get down, she would throw up within an hour. Madam Pomfrey had asked Professor Snape to modify fast acting nutrition potions so Hermione could at least something of substance in her system.

She couldn't hold down anything more than broth and the occasional cracker, and even the potions began to have no effect.

Many of the Professors would come and visit, non more so than Snape, who would come in with several different potions for Hermione to try after he modified the nutrition potion, but she only ever wrenched them back up.

Malfoy would visit just as often as Harry. At first, he would stand by the door, peeking in every once in a while, then one day Harry walked in on Malfoy by her side in the old, rickety chair, holding her hand and reading out loud to her. If Harry had beat him to the Infirmary, which didn't happen often, Malfoy would sit on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest.

Harry had no clue why Malfoy was there, instead of asking, he would simply glare at the blond until one of them left.

It did give him some comfort however, knowing that someone else would sit with Hermione when he went off other library.

He would spend hours bent over he pages of several different tomes. 

Occasionally, Zabini would sit by him and comb through the text with Harry.  
Harry asked why Zabini's response was simple, "She's important to Draco for whatever reason so she's important to me too." He said sternly, "She saved all our asses in the war, cuz lets face it, you would be dead if it wasn't for her, and so would all of we… And she's important to you too so…" His cheeks tinged red and he looked back down at his book.

Harry nodded, and the silence is where they found themselves for days to come. When Harry would get to the library after spending time with Hermione, Zabini would already be there, his pile of books stacked higher than it was the night before.

"Where've you been, Potter?" Zabini would say, "We have research to do."  
Harry would sit across form him, and they would read, exchanging ideas when a curse that sounded like the cause came up.

After three days, Harry would feel Zabini's foot against his when he began to get frustrated. Soft touches, fleeting in nature, were exchanged almost as often as ideas.

"Go visit Granger," Zabini said every night at 8, "the library should be closing soon anyway, I'll write notes for you.”

Harry wouldn't argue, he would walk over to the infirmly straight to Hermione's side, where Draco Malfoy would be sitting, reading Hogwarts a History to Hermione.

The bruises on Malfoy remained constant, but lately, they had become worse. His face would be coved in bruised in different stages of healing, his knuckles had become raw and layered with scars and scabs, but none of the professors seemed to care about the boys condition. Most of them looked at him with speculation and anger, and Harry could understand why.

But there was one thing that Harry did know for certain. Malfoy's knuckles had only become red and raw when Hermione has begun to disappearing during the nights before her time at the infirmary.

Hermione would ask to heal him, and he would alway oblige, even if they all knew how would drive with new ones the next day.

Harry had walked in to the infirmary one morning to fond Malfoy asleep in his chair, and Hermione raging with McGonagall that she had to do something about what was happening to Malfoy.

McGonagall promised to look into it, but Harry doubted it would go anywhere.

But he couldn't deny that somewhere deep down, he was thankful for Malfoy. He seemed yo bring some light back to her.

Hermione was always pale, her cheeks sunken in and hollowed out. Once Draco would see Harry approaching the bed, he would shut his book, say his goodbye, and giver Hermione the softest of kisses on her cheek.

This was the only time of day were her face would have any color.

With a curt nod, Harry would take Malfoy's spot and talk to Hermione until Madam Pomfrey kicked him out.

"So," Harry began once he took a seat, "I got a letter from Ron.”

Hermione gave a fleeting smile, she didn't want anyone to know about her condition, as far as people knew, she was fighting the effects of a curse and that she was quickly recovering.

At least it wasn't all a lie.

But Ron knew the truth, but Hermione didnt need to know that.  
"What did he say?" Hermione asked.

Harry adjusted his glasses and pulled the letter out of his robes.  
"Dear Hermione and Harry," Harry began out loud, "I hope everything is going well. Everything here is okay. Hermione, I hope you are feeling better, Mum will be sending another basket of goods soon because she still thinks we need to fatten up.”

Hermione barked out a laugh and Harry swore that it was the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

Harry skimmed the letter, skipping the sections that detailed how Ron had talked to Bill about Hermione's condition. There was no news on that part but they would keep looking.

"I love you both," Harry continued, "and I hope that we can see each other during winter hols.”

Harry folded the letter carefully and tucked it back into his robes. His eyes trained on Hermione's thoughtful look.

"He knows doesn't he…" Hermione whispered.

Harry froze. How did she know?

“Yes."

Hermione nodded, and took in a deep breath. "Okay." She blinked a few times in an attempt to take control of the tears welling up in her eyes, "How are you Harry? I hope you're okay.”

Harry snorted, "I'm just fine," he said, "I spend most of my time here and in the library with great company. Things are going well for me. It's you I'm worried about.”

Hermione perked up a little, a sly smile growing on her face. Harry looked dumbfounded down at her. What did he say to make her smile? Maybe he say he was slaving away in the library more often.

"Company?" She whispered, "Have you met someone Harry?”

Harry's eyes narrowed, "Seriously Hermione," he said throwing his arms out in front to him, then dropped them on the bed dramatically, "you're sick from Merlin knows what but you're concerned about my love life?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She was more herself in those few seconds than she had been in months around Harry.

"I just want you to be happy." Hermione said. She slid her had over Harry's larger one, "I just want you to be happy no matter who you like or love."  
Harry squirmed uncomfortably, "I don't know what you're talking about."  
"I think you do." Hermione said, giving him a kind look, "I can see how Zabini looks at you, and how you look at him.”

"I don't look at him," He said stubbornly, "and he doesn't look at me.”

Hermione adjusted herself against her pile of pillows and gave Harry a soft look. Harry glanced away, his fingers slowly working to unravel Hermione's blanket.

They didn't speak for several minutes and Harry knew that Hermione was giving him time. She would always give him the time he up all the Gryffindor courage he was so known for, his fingers still pulling at the blanket, his eyes locked on Hermione's hands which were neatly folded in her lap.

"I think I like boys," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. He's never thought it out loud before. "And I don't know how to feel about it.”

Hermione shifted again, her fingers touched Harry's chin, lifting it so he would look at her, a small smile on her face, "It's no different than you liking girls, Harry," Hermione whispered, "all that matters is that you're okay with who you are, because that hasn't changed.”

She brushed some stray tears from Harry's cheek and huffed, "Now," Hermione said, "Tell me about Zabini and the library.”

Harry chuckled and dove into his time in the library with Hermione, and how the Slytherin boy he was opening time with made butterflies go mad in his stomach.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione had been in the infirmary too long.

Most of the professors would come and go, and Professor Snape had taken to sitting with her after Harry and Draco had been told to go to their rooms. He would bring a tattered old journal with potions staines soaked though the paper.

Snape, Hermione had noticed, had a tendency to tap rhythmically when he was thinking.

"What kind of pain do you have?" Snape asked, his eyes still on his journal, "Soreness, muscle pain, nerve pain…”

Hermione sighed. He had been asking these questions since he started visiting her. What kind of pain do you have? Is your breathing restricted? When did you start noticing symptoms?

He would ask and Hermione would answer to the best of her ability.  
Except for one thing. She never spoke about what Bellatrix had done to her, about how her mutilated arm hurt.

"I feel like my bones are all broken and jelly at the same time." Hermione answered.

"And sleep, do you get nightmares?" Snape asked, he's quill scratching away.

"Don't we all?" Came her weak reply.

For the first time, Snape looked up at her, his eyes focused on her with intensity she had never seen from him. "Yes, we do.”

He would go back to scratching away in his journal with his quill. He would then leave once the sun had begun to rise and Hermione would often wonder if the Bat of Hogwarts slept.

Madam Pomfrey would then come in and feed Hermione her potions. Draco would come in and let Hermione heal him, then he would read to her. Harry would come next and sit with her until Pomfrey would kick him out. 

McGonagall would come in during lunch once or twice a week and talk to Pomfrey about her condition.

This was Hermione's life now. People she cared about and began to grow to care about would come in and out of the infirmary while she withered away.  
Madam Pomfrey would encourage her to walk a few steps a day. It would be up in the air who walked with her, Harry would always offer, letting her lean on him while they walk, encouraging her as they walked from one end of the infirmary to the other. Draco had walked with her a few times when Harry wasn't there, and rarely, when Harry and Draco didn't walk with her, Snape would.

It had been in the last few days that Hermione couldn't move, her muscles wouldn't allow it. She instead would lay in bed and work her muscles best from her position in the bed.

And Snape would ask her the same questions, asking if anything was changing or gettin worse.

No, she would say, Nothing has changed.

Hermione didn't mention the hallucinations.

Sometimes she would be sitting with Harry or Draco, and sometimes it would be Bellatrix cackling bedside her.

When it was Bellatrix, Hermione would just close her eyes and wait for it to pass. Sometimes it would take and hour, sometimes a day. Either way, the results were the same, she would close her eyes and focus on smaller, and inconsequential things. She would try and will the hallucinations away.

One morning, once Snape had left with his usual curt nod, Draco took his seat beside Hermione.

"You're looking better this morning," Draco said, brushing his thumb over Hermione's pink tinged cheek.

"I feel a bit better," Hermione said, "Whatever Snape gave me last night must have helped.”

Draco looked over his shoulder towards Madam Pomfrey's door. He slipped his hand into his robes and pulled out a handkerchief punched up around something.  
"My mum sent me a basket of Cauldron Cakes," Draco whispered, handing her what Hermione expected to be Cauldron Cake, "I want to give you some, since we shared yours.”

Hermione gave a soft laugh, "Madam Pomfrey would be so upset." Hermione unfolded the white cloth and slowly started to pick the Cauldron Cake apart, savoring every bite. "These are so good." Hermione whispered, "Your mum made them?”

Draco nodded, picking up a chunk of cake and lifting it to Hermione's mouth. "Eat as much as you want. I'll bring you more if you want some.”

Hermione smiled, nodding as she put another piece in her mouth. Hermione finished the cake and Draco folded the handkerchief and put it back into the pocket he took it out from.

She was thankful he had stopped lurking in the shadows of the infirmary. He would just watch for days then, one early morning, he sat down next to her and asked her if he could read to her.

Hermione had nodded, and he had been visiting her ever since.

A chill ran through Hermione, pulling her out of her musings, and she immediately wrapped the blanket around her tighter. Her arm with Mudblood dug into it much like it had the night she was tortured. She knew that what was to come next, what almost always came next.

"Something wrong?" Draco asked.

"It's cold." Hermione whispered. Her head was spinning, and slowly, it wasn't Draco sitting there, Bellatrix has made her third reappearance that day.

But this time it was different. All other times the hallucinations would come in and out of focus, but this time it was too real. She reached out in an attempt to see if she would feel the crazed woman wild hair and, to her silent relief, her hand went right past a tightly wound coil.

"I'm hallucinating," Hermione said after some silence.

"Hallucinating." Draco repeated, "Do you need me to call Madam—“

"No no," Hermione said, wrapping her blanket tighter around herself, "it'll go away.”

Draco gave her a skeptical look as the hallucination flickered from Hermione's sight, but said nothing. The rest of his visit, Draco looked pensive as he read to her, his brows slightly drawn together.

As their time together came to an end, the hallucination fading hours before, the crease between Draco's brows only got deeper. Hermione reached over and smoothed it with her thumb, relishing in the boys warmth. Draco took her hand brushed his lips against her knuckles.

"That day in potions," Draco whispered, "when you are screaming. Was that a hallucination, too?”

Hermione stiffened but nodded. Draco gave her a long, thoughtful look.  
"Who did you see?" He asked.

"Bellatrix," came Hermione's answer.

Draco began fiddle with his fingers, "And just now?" He asked in an almost childlike way, "Who was I?”

Hermione didn't answer, but apparently that was enough for Draco.

The main entrance of the infirmary opened then shut loudly. Harry stepped into Hermione's peripheral view.

"Herms," He said, "you okay?”

"I'm fine, Harry," Hermione said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Draco."  
Draco nodded, he stood up and left. There was no soft kiss on the cheek, no shy looks as he left.

He just walked away.

Harry looked at the back of Draco's head oddly, "What's up with him?" He asked, jabbing his thumb in the blond's direction.

"I don't know," Hermione said, "but I think I might have offended him.”

Harry sat beside her with a shrug and pulled out another letter from Ron. Hermione closed her eyes to listening to Harry's calming tone when she eventually drifted to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione wasn't doing well.

And she didn't have to say it for him to know.

Her eyes were hollow. She would stare off into the distance, and it would take a few minutes for her to come back from where ever she drifted off too.

The day he knew his best friend was dying was the day Malfoy had left Hermione abruptly. It wasn't that event that that led him to that conclusion, but what had followed almost directly after.

They had a short conversation then she quickly fell asleep. Harry never left her side, he pulled out a quill and started to pen a letter to Ron. Harry stopped writing abruptly when Hermione jolted awake, screaming that she was in pain, that her arm was burning, pleading for it to stop.

Madam Pomfrey bolted out of her office, shouting orders at Harry, demanding that he get back and leave the infirmary.

She insisted he didn't need to see this, to see his friend in pain, but he stayed by her side, chanting reassuring words that he hoped reached Hermione.

When Madam Pomfrey finally sedated Hermione with three vials of sleeping drought, she called for the Headmistress and Potions Master after an examination.

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape asked as he walked through the doors with a flourish.

Harry, who had been watching from his seat on a nearby bed, had his eyes glued on Hermione's arm.

But now it wasn't much of one.

Her body had withered away, yes, but her arm was another story entirely. The slur that Bellatrix had violently carved into Hermione's left arm had festered, leaving a gangrened mess behind.

Snape had paled at the sight. He hadn't been the only one. McGonagall came in soon after, needing to excuse herself when she saw Hermione's arm.

"It wasn't like this two days ago," the mediwitch said, "I don't know what it could be… I've— I've never seen anything like this.”

Snape stepped closer, and Harry watched the older wizard's eyes narrow in contemplation. "It must be some kind of curse or poison," he said, before turning to Harry, " , did have an injury on this arm?”

Madam Pomfrey stilled, and McGonagall looked away. Harry nodded numbly, his eyes frozen.

"What is it boy?" Snape spat, "I need to know so I can help her.”

Harry shook his head, words seamed to escape him. Why didn't she tell him her arm had been hurting? Why hadn't she told him that she had been hurting?

"Its a scar," Hermione rasped, causing everyone to jump at her voice, "When I was at the Manor, Bellatrix cut into me.”

Before Snape could say a word, Madam Pomfrey and Harry lent to her side. Harry pressed his forehead to Hermione's temple, whispering to Pomfrey on the other hand, waved her want over Hermione, her brow furrowed.

"My dear girl," Madam Pomfrey said, "you shouldn't be up, I gave you enough Sleeping Draught to knock out a Hungarian Horntail.”

"Its okay," Hermione said, "I feel much better though.”

The room fell into a short silence before Snape cleared his throat, stomping over to Harry and ripping him away from Hermione.

"Before you were interrupted," Snape said, "you were taking about begin cut. What kind of cut was it?”

Hermione shook her head and tried to swallow, failing as she chocked on her own breath. Harry quickly conjured a glass of water and handed it to Hermione who greedily drank it down.

When she was done, Harry happily took the glass and set it down. He then took Hermione's right hand, stroking her knuckles gently in reassurance.

"Bellatrix used a cursed knife," Hermione said in a voice barley above a whisper, "I remember how it burned, then, when she stopped, it was over. Just like that… until a few weeks ago.”

Snape nodded, deep in thought, "What was carved? Was it a rune? A sigil?"  
Hermione stiffened under Harry's touch, her skin growing cold in an instant.

"It wasn't anything important." Hermione said.

"But it was something," Snape pressed, moving closer.

The room fell silent again. Madam Pomfrey glanced at the Headmistress and the air was thick with tension. Snape's eyes roamed over everyone in the room, his sneer growing deeper and deeper.

"What is it?" Snape snarled, breaking what little peace there was in the room.

He glanced down at Hermione, a twisted look in her eye, and they way he looked when at her made Harry's gut churn angrily, "Miss. Granger—“

"She said it's not important!" Harry said, leaping out of his seat.

Snape move in close to Harry, his face inches away from the young wizard's.  
"I wouldn't know," Snape growled, "no one will tell me anything.”

Harry saw Hermione stir, sifting slightly in her bed.

"It said Mudblood," Hermione mumbled, her breath coming to her short.  
Harry flinched at the word, closing his eyes to keep the tears and anger at bay.

"Parton?" Snape asked. When Harry opened his eyes, he could see the Potions Master was taken aback, a wide range of emotion playing on his face.

"It said Mudblood," Hermione said with a little more strength, "she said that it was what I deserved.”

“I—“ Snape said, then, he cut himself off, swallowing his words.

"Will that help?" Hermione asked, her doe-like gaze trained up at the Professor.

"No," Snape resigned.

Harry moved to take Hermione's hand but she pulled it into her lap. She sank into her bed and turned to her side, facing away from the group.

"I'm tired now," Hermione said, her tone defeated, "go away. I want to be alone.”

Harry reached out, to touch her shoulder but Snape laid his hand on the young wizards forearm. Harry's eyes snapped up and before he could protest, the man simply shook his head.

"It's time the three of you leave," Madam Pomfrey whispered, "I will notify you if anything changes, Minerva.”

Headmistress McGonagall, who had been watching from a distance, gave a curt nod and hurried out of the infirmary, muttering under her breath.

"I'll be in my lab," Snape said, striding out of the room, "I will return when I have a new potion.”

Harry spent a few more minutes watching Hermione's breathing grow slow and shallow. Harry gave her a short kiss on the forehead, tucked her tightly, then walked out of the infirmary, his mind on the library.


	16. Chapter 16

Hermione had been drifting in and out of consciousness since her arm had begun to rot. Snape had gone by several times with a large variety of different potions and salves for her arm, none of which had helped.

Madam Pomfrey tended to stay back in her office when the Potion's Master visited, Hermione didn't completely understand why but she was thankful. She hasted the pity in the mediwitch's eyes when she examined large medical file or Hermione's malnourished body.

"Miss. Granger," Snape said after what seemed like the hundredth failed potion, "I'm running out of options, and unless I start looking into more… unseemly potions… We may need to amputate.”

Hermione started at her professor for a long time, thankful that her hallucinations were not kept at bay with one of Snape's personal potions.

"Amputation?" Hermione repeated after a beat. She looked down at her cotton wrapped arm, her stomach churning, "How much longer do we have?”

Snape cleared his throat and sat back into his seat, "For your arm? Not long, maybe a week, but… removing it… would give us time to find a cure for this if it isn't the cause of the sickness to begin with.”

Hermione took the glass by her bed and drank all the water down in three large gulps. Her head was spinning and she could feel her hands shaking. "Cut it off now." She said, “Tonight."

"Excuse me?" Snape chocked.

"It's going to happen anyway right?" Hermione asked, "You said a maybe a week. Maybe. Might as well get it over with.”

"We have a week." He pressed.

"No. You said maybe, and we both know that potions usually take more than a week to brew. It'll save us all some trouble," Hermione said coldly.

"You impress me more and more everyday." Snape said, "I'll tell Poppy and we'll get to it.”

Before Snape could stand, Hermione grabbed a hold of his hand with her boney fingers, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Will you be here?" Hermione asked, "When she does it?”

Snape swallowed thickly, nodding stiffly before breathed in deeply, "You were there for me when I needed to be healed. I will be here for you. But isn't there anyone we can owl for you? Maybe you're paren—“

"My parents are dead," Hermione said, emotion threatening her at the memory, "I'm alone.”

Hermione nodded releasing Snape's hand with a choked sob. She watched him knock on Madam Pomfrey's door and converse with her.

Hermione took her wand and summoned a patrons, the room filling with light. "Harry," She said, "I don't want you going tonight, my potions are making me drowsy and I don't want to be asleep when you're here… And," she swallowed, preparing the lie on her tongue, "Professor Snape says that this potion will probably work… so all we have to do it try it and see.”

Snape's eyes widened at her words, but he didn't dare say anything.

Her otter floated off, and she patiently waited for madam Pomfrey to approach her with a try of potions.

"Are you sure about this Hermione?" The witch asked.

Hermione inhaled deeply and shook her head, "No, but let's do it.”

Snape took his seat to Hermione's right and crossed his left ankle with his right knee.

"I'll be here the whole time," he said.

Hermione nodded before turning back to the Madam Pomfrey, who had set the tray on one of the nightstands.

"You have to drink all of these," she said, motioning to the potions, "They'll put you to sleep and numb you. I'll amputate and in a few hours you'll wake. But we can wait a few more days.”

Hermione didn't answer, instead she took the potions one by one, throwing them back and shiver tat the sweet then bitter tastes. She reached out for Snape's hand for the second time that day, when she began to grow lightheaded and weightless.

Hermione felt someone push her back against the bed, whispering to her as they did so.

The last thing she remembered was a pinch on her left arm before her world went black

Hermione was groggy when she woke. It happened so soften that Hermione was used to waiting for the rest of her body to wake up.

She opened her eyes and was immediately welcomed by the sun's warm glow filtering in through the windows. She turned her head to find Professor spieling upright in his seat, his hand still in Hermione's smaller one.

She gave a small, dry laugh and attempted to sit up, leaning on her left arm for support only to find her self tip over onto her side. Her face planting itself in her pillow.

Snape, who had been awoken by Hermione's hand being pulled away from his, bolted up, his hair sticking down to his head.

"Miss. Granger?" He asked, swallowing to moisten his throat, "Are you alright?”

"I fell over," Hermione said into the pillow.

Snape helped her sit up, adjusting the pillows so she could be as comfortable as possible. Meanwhile, Hermione examined what was left of her arm. Her arm was amputated just before the elbow, and she realized that the pain that had been building had stopped.

"I'm missing and arm," Hermione said, blinking, "we cut it off.”

Snape, who watched her with an odd look, flipped his hair with a jerk of the head, and relaxed back into the chair.

"We did." Snape said, "How do you feel?”

Hermione stretched her toes and rolled her head, cracking her heck in several places.

"Better," she whispered, "so much better.”

An awkward silence filled the room. Snape pulled the book, Hogwarts a History, off the nightstand and flipped it open.

"The bookmark hasn't moved," Snape mused, "you haven't been reading."

Hermione smiled sadly at the man and nodded, "Draco usually reads to me," she whispered, "He hasn't been around the last dew days.”

Snape's eyebrows jumped at Hermione's words, but he didnt look up from the text.

"You and Draco are close then?" Snape asked.

"He's a good friend," Hermione answered.

"A friend?" Snape asked.

“Yes."

Snape nodded, "Well, that's the least of our problems," Snape said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "I'm still dying, so I would say so.”

"Not that Miss. Granger. How are you going to explained missing an arm to your friends." Snape said, turning the page.

"Right," Hermione whispered, and after a long pause she gathered enough courage to ask, “Do you know about the bruises.”

Snape’s eyes darkened, “He’s a grown wizard, Miss.Granger, if he refused to report it, there isn’t much we can do.”

Hermione huffed, “He’s ridiculous.”

The professor’s lips lifted ever so slightly, “He always has been.”

Another extended silence, ”Will you read to me?”

Snape scoffed, rolling his eyes, but began to read aloud from where Draco had left off days prior. A familiar pain began in Hermione’s leg.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry was in the Library researching with Zabini when Hermione's Patronus glided into view, Hermione's voice speaking out of it, asking him not to see her today. His eyes drew together in confusion but ultimately respected Hermione's need for privacy.

"What was that, Potter?" Zabini asked.

"It was Hermione's Patronus," Harry said excitement and hope rising, a smile splitting her face, "she just asked me not to visit tonight because Professor Snape has a potion that he thinks will work!”

Harry turned to Blaise but his eyes were looking at where the Patronus disappeared.

"That was a Patronus?" Zabini asked in awe, "I've never seen one.”

Harry squirmed for a moment, "You've never seen a Patronus?" He asked in a whisper.

Zabini shook his head, a sad smile on his face, "Can you make one? A Patronus?”

In lieu of and answer, Harry stood up, walked next to Zabini, and flicked his wand to summon his own Patronus, a powerful stag shimmering in the candlelight. He turned to Zabini to see his jaw slack and eyes wide.

Harry released the charm and smiled. It really was his favorite charm.  
"Potter." Blaise said, turning Harry to face him, "I'm going to kiss you.”

Before Harry could say a word, Zabini crash his mouth against his, coaxing him to kiss back. After a moment of shock, Harry kissed back in earnest, moaning when Zabini bit his lip.

They pulled away for a moment, breathing heavily as they looked into each other's eyes.

Gathering up all of his courage, Harry started to work on Zabini's belt, fumbling as he tried to pull it from the loops, "I want to try something," Harry whispered, his fantasies of sucking Zabini off coming into his mind.

Zabini stopped him by laying his hands over Harry's despite the lust clear in his eyes.

"Have you ever sucked someone off?" Zabini said in a husky voice, taking a step closer to Harry, trapping him against a bookshelf.

Harry shook his head, looking at the other boy with wide eyes.

"Has anyone ever sucked you off?" Zabini asked, his eyes darkening when Harry shook his head again.

Zabini licked his lips and gently pushed Harry flush against the bookshelves. He looked focused when he started to undo Harry's trousers, pulling them and his shorts down as he sank to his knees.

The sight almost made Harry come on the spot. He grasped the bookshelf for support and watched the other wizard kiss up his thighs.

Zabini took Harry's cock in he's hand and started to stock it, his eyes locked on Harry's. Zabini opened his mouth ran his round airing Harry's glands, causing Harry's hips to jerk.

"Merlin," Harry said, his breath coming in pants.

Zabini smirked and took one of Harry's hands, placing it on the back of his head. Zabini slowly sucked the head of Harry's penis, twirling his tongue as he did so.

Harry tried to stop from thrusting into Zabini's warm mouth, afraid of choking the other wizard. Zabini released Harry's cock, causing Harry to moan in protest.

Zabini smirked, then licked Harry from base to tip, using one of his hands to squeeze his bullocks.

"Do you like that?" Zabini asked, his free hand stroking Harry slowly.

This was torture, and Harry was sure he was going to die.

"Yes," He moaned, all other words escaping him.

Zabini grabbed Harry's hips and took all of him into this mouth, humming in approval when Harry let out a low, guttural moan. He forced his eyes down to watch Zabini, who hollowed his cheeks as he bobbed his head, work.

Harry's breath was coming in short pants, and he could no longer stop the jerking of his hips as Zabini brought him closer and closer to the edge.

"Stop," Harry rasped, "I'm going to cum.”

Zabini paid Harry no mind and sucked him harder. Harry tightened his hold in Zabini's coiled hair when he came with a moan.

What he didn't expect was for Zabini to swallow his release, only puling away when Harry's stopped cumming.

Harry let his head fall back against the bookshelves, panting as he enjoyed the aftershock of his orgasm.

Zabini stood up with a smirk, his tongue darting out to lick the last bit of Harry's spunk from his lips before pulling Harry close, hips to hips.

Harry tried to undo Zabini's pants so he could reciprocate but he was once again stopped by Zabini's warm hands.

"Maybe next time," Zabini said, straightening himself out.

"Next time?" Harry yelped, "You want a next time?”

Zabini nodded, a lusty smirk growing his face, "Next time I'm going to fuck you into the mattress, and I hope it's soon.”

Harry's jaw dropped at his words. Zabini chuckled and placed a soft kiss to Harry's bottom lip before he accio-ed his belongings and strutted out of the library, leaving Harry to put the books away on his own before he left the library too.

Harry spent the entire night staring at the cracks in the ceiling somewhere between confusion and arousal.

Blaise Zabini sucked him off in the library and he wanted more.

Harry groaned and flopped the pillow next to him onto his face.

"What did I do?" He muttered into the pillow, "Merlin what did I do?”

He laid there for a few hours before decided that sleep wasn't an option for him. He hopped out of bed, dressing and pulling on clothes.

If he couldn't sleep, he would find to find what was going on with Hermione.  
He strutted down the halls towards the library under his invisible cloak. He went to the library and lighted some candles, reading as many curses and spells as he could.

Before he knew it, it was morning, and Madam Pince was opening the library.

It waste soon after that Zabini came in, startled at Harry's disheveled form.

"I didn't think that you would be here," Zabini said, sitting across from Harry.

"I couldn't sleep," Harry said, his cheeks reddening with every passing moment. "I had too much on my mind.”

Zabini sent him a sly, knowing, smile, "Trust me," Zabini purred, "I understand.”

Zabini slid his foot next to Harry's, slowly letting it trace up his caff.

Harry's face flushed darker. He pulled his leg away, deciding it was better to focus on the books than the Slytherin before him.

Zabini's smile slowly faded, his shoulders straightening as he sat up in his chair, leaning back to distance himself. "Maybe you should go see Granger," Zabini said, "You didn't see her last night.”

Harry nodded, his dark hair flopping forwards, "I think you're right." Harry shut his books and rushed out of the aisle, "I'll see you later. And I hope it's soon.”

Zabini's straight face broke back into the sly smile and he chuckled, "We'll have to talk about last night and next time later then," he called after Harry, who almost tripped over his own feet at the words.

Harry hesitated before turning back, "We'll talk later!" He said, warmth filling his belly, the anticipation of seeing Zabini again making his skin tingle.

Harry ran as fast as he could to the infirmary, only pausing when Flinch barked at him to slow down, which Harry did until the grumpy old man was out of sight. He burst into the doors out of breath, excited to see Hermione, but also impatient to ask for her guidance with Zabini.

His smile, however, did not last long.

Not when his best friend was laying on crisp sheets, her skin almost as white as the linen she was sleeping on. Harry looked at her closely, her chest was rising and falling shallowly, her brows drawn in pain.

Snape, who was sitting in the chair next to her, had his eyes close, snoring softly.

"Hermione?" Harry whispered, as he slowly approached her still form, before he had a chance to reach out and wake her, Snape jumped out of his chair and took hold of Harry's wrist, startling him.

"She needs rest, Potter." Snape hissed, "She's been through enough.”

Harry hesitated, staring the black eyed man in the face dumbly, "S-She said she would get better." Harry stuttered, "She said you would make her okay."

The anger in Snape's eyes softened at Harry's child like tone.

"No, boy," Snape let Harry go, and moved to Hermione, slowly pulling back the blanket that covered Hermione up to her shoulders. "Hermione wanted to tell you herself but I don't think that would be wise.”

Harry looked down at Hermione, he face was gaunt, pale, and almost skeleton like, her hair even wilder than before.

"She's not better?" Harry asked.

"No," Snape's tone was lined with grief, "she's not. Whatever it is, it's spread to her leg.”

Harry looked lower on Hermione's body, his eyes traveling down her arm, which stopped right above where her elbow should have been.

Harry choked as he gasped. "No." He began to panic.

"Mr. Potter—“

"—She cant die—“

Harry couldn't breath, his lungs were failing him.

"You need to calm down," Snape said.

"No no no," Harry backed away, bumping onto the tray on the night stand, sending it and all the potions on it crashing to the floor.

The breaking glass echoed through the infirmary. Harry gave one final look to Hermione before he bolted out of the room into the darkened halls of Hogwarts. He ran up stairs and passed the ghosts that roamed the halls.

When he couldn't run anymore, he pushed into a room, a bathroom. Harry early made it to the sink before he wrenched whatever was his stomach out.

"She cant die." He said to himself, "She cant, she cant, she cant.”

Harry looked up into the mirror, his reflection staring back at him. His eyes red and puffy, skin paler then is used to be.

"She cant die," Harry repeated to himself.

There was a sound behind him, and he focused on the figure that slow approached.

"Potter?" Malfoy said, his voice hollow.

Harry turned, pushing his back into the sink. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry rasped, his hand inching towards his wand.

Malfoy eyes him, then against his better judgment, stepped closer, his hands up in surrender.

"It's okay, Potter," Malfoy said, "She'll be okay.”

"She wont," Harry said with a chocking sob, "she's not okay!”

Malfoy stepped closer as Harry sobbed, the hand that wasn't gripping his wand muffling any sound he made.

"I— I think I know what's wrong with her," Malfoy said horsey, laying his hand over Harry's white knuckled grip, "We can help her.”

Harry looked up to Malfoy to see that he was crying too, his light blue eyes open and honest. Harry nodded, sniffling as he did so, "What do you need?"

Malfoy sighed, his shoulders slumping forward, relief evident, "You need to write the eldest Weasley, the curse breaker, and if I'm right… I need to owl my mother.”


	18. Chapter 18

When Hermione woke again, her body felt heavy. Her heart was pounding and her leg throbbed. She turned her head to see Harry funning out of the infirmary doors, the fog of sleep still hanging over her head.

"Professor?" Hermione slurred, the potions fogging her brain, "My leg hurts." She said, knowing full well that her leg was not rotting away too.

Snape jumped in shock at the sound of her voice, his eyes wide when he looked down at her. He quickly pulled a dark potion form his robes, nervously fumbling with the cork as he opened and fed Hermione the bitter fluid.

Hermione doesn't think she's ever seen the man fumble in her life.

"The potion should take effect in a moment," the Professor said, "the pain should dissipate soon.”

Hermione nodded, and closed her eyes, the potion making its way though her body, filling her up and numbing her to the world.

"You cant have it often," Snape said, "It's highly addictive.”

Hermione nodded dumbly, she could understand why it was addictive, she felt great.

"Read?" Hermione whispered.

Instead of and answer, the Potions Master sat in his wooden chair and closed his eyes, reciting Moste Potente Potions from memory.

Hermione listened to him as she watched snow fall form the other side of the window. Christmas was two weeks away, and Hermione wondered if she would be there to see it.

The potions, Hermione mused, took away the pain but didn't stop any of the other symptoms. The disease crawled up her leg slowly, and the hallucinations were common stance.

Now it wasn't only Bellatrix Lestrange, sometimes it was Greyback, Antonin Dolohov, and once or twice, it was her parents, screaming at her and calling her a monster for what she did to them.

It was late at night a week after Madam Pomfrey amputated her arm when she had begun to feel like she was all alone. Harry had come by once or twice to sit with her when he thought she was asleep. Draco never listed her, sometimes he would stop by door and peak in.

It was a Wednesday when Hermione woke to find a stock of red hair in the chair beside her.

"Ron?" She rasped, a faint smile growing on her face.  
Ron, who had been playing himself in Wizard Chess, glassed at her, his face breaking into a smile, and his eyes filling with tears.

"Oh 'Mione!" He said, jumping up and knocking his chessboard onto the ground, "How do you feel?”

Hermione tired to smile wider to calm Ron, but it was more than a grimace. "I'm okay," she whispered, "the potions stop the hurt.”

Ron slipped his hand down Hermione's arm, flushing as he realized she didn't have a left hand to hold anymore. He stuttered and apology, his eyes filling once again.

"It's okay, Ron," Hermione said, "I would rather have it gone if it was going to hurt that badly.”

Ron nodded, taking a few calming breaths to steady himself. "Bill is here, he's with Madam Pomfrey, Snape, and… well… Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, if you'll believe it.”

Hermione drew her eyebrows together. She licked her lips to ready the question on her tongue, but Ron spoke before she had a chance.

"I don't know why they're here… Harry said Malfoy knows what's going on with," Ron whispered, "I don't know what but Mrs. Malfoy was adamant that she come to Hogwarts today to see you.”

"Ron," Hermione said, her words slurring together, Rons words jumbling her brain, "I don't understand.”

Madam Pomfrey's door swung open, an angry Narcissa Malfoy storming out, half a dozen people following her out.

"I know what I speak of, Minerva!" Narcissa said, her magic causing sparks to fly through the air, "This magic is taught from generation to generation for the Blacks, and being one of two living Blacks alive, I'm sure your pickings for information are small.”

Harry, who had followed Narcissa out with Bill, Mcgonagall, Lucius, Draco, Snape, and Madam Pomfrey, shifted form foot to foot uncomfortably.  
"Mrs. Malfoy," Bill began, "are you sure?”

Lucius, who Hermione had noticed didn't look as sickly now as he did during the final battle, raised his nose arrogantly, "Of course she knows what she's talking about." He said haughtily, "She probably knows more about curses than you do, Weasley.”

"Last I checked," Ron said hotly, "You didn't spend all of last year hunting—"

Hermione flinched when Narcissa stomped her foot down, glaring at the small group.  
"I don't understand," Hermione rasped, "whats going on?”

Narcissa turned to Hermione and she physically relaxed. She walked up to Hermione, Ron jumping out of way, and laid her hand on Hermione's forehead.

"She's feverish." Narcissa whispered, "Oh my dear girl I am so sorry."  
Draco moved to Hermione's right side, his reaching out for her. Lucius raised an eyebrow at the intimacy of the gesture but said nothing as Narcissa examined the young witch.

"How bad are they?" Narcissa asked, taking the seat Ron abandoned.  
"How bad are what?" Hermione asked, mesmerized by the kindness shining in the older witch's eyes.

"The hallucinations," Narcissa said, straightening up in the chair, "How often are you seeing things?”

Several people in the room choked, and Harry, who had been staining next to Bill jerked back at the question.

Madam Pomfrey was the first to speak, "What does she mean by hallucinations?”

Hermione looked away with shame, guilt eating at her. "For a while," she responded, "they come and go. I don't see anything now.”

Narcissa nodded, crossing her legs looking the ever-elegant socialite she was. She turned to Headmistress McGonagall and said calmly, "I told you," Narcissa turned back to Hermione and adjusted in her seat, "The night that you were brought to the Manor, my sister— Bellatrix— did something to you.”

Hermione flinched at the name of the insane woman, willing herself not to fall back into her head as the memories of her torture flooded back to her.  
"Miss. Granger," Narcissa began, "I don't know how to say this—"

"—You're a Horcrux," Draco blurted, his eyes widening as he realized what he let slip.

Hermione's eyes widened comedically, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “Wha—"

"Honestly, son," Lucius said, "you're lack of tact is astounding.”

"Not a successful one," Bill interrupted, sending a disapproving look to Draco,   
"Hermione, you aren't a real Horcrux, Lestrange didn't have the chance to kill someone to complete the splitting of her soul.”

Hermione's stomach churned, "Bucket." She said.

Harry, who was used to Hermione's spells of nausea, summoned one and tucked it under her chin faster than anyone else could ask what she meant. Hermione gagged but nothing happened. Her stomach was completely empty.

Harry had pulled her hair back as best he could, rubbing her back as she schooled her breathing.

"How do we fix it?" Ron asked, crossing his arms, uncomfortable at the pain his best friend was in, feeling helpless to stop it.

Narcissa swallowed and her lips turned up into a smile.

"It's not as difficult as once might think." She began, "She just needs a potion with basilisk venom and tears of a phoenix… most of the other ingredient should be easier to find.”

Snape nodded, his eyes trained on Hermione, "I will start brewing as soon as Mr. Weasley looks though the manuscripts you brought today." Snape said, "I'm sorry Narcissa, but with your track record, I will not risk it.”

Hermione smiled at the concern her Professor showed, knowing that he was feeling more than he allowed himself to show.

Narcissa waved Snape's worries away. "I think nothing of it.”

"I understand that you may think us evil and cruel," Lucius said those in the room as he stepped back behind his son, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, "but things change. And you saved your life my friend," he said to Snape, "after everything you've done? Everything you've been through? If she can find forgiveness for you then, maybe there is a future for all of us… however we may want it.”

He squeezed Draco's shoulder lightly, causing him to look up at his father. Hermione could see joy and thankfulness in the younger wizards eyes as he squeezed Hermione's hand, why, she didn't completely understand.  
"She should rest now." Madam Pomfrey said, "She has a long few weeks ahead of her.”

One by one, the group grew smaller and smaller, Ron, Harry, and Draco still by her side. Lucius and Narcissa told Draco they would wait for him outside and to take his time if he needed to.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Draco whispered, leaning down and kissed Hermione right on the corner of her lip. Hermione savored the feeling, gooseflesh spending on her skin.

With a final look to Harry and Ron, he waled out and met his parents.  
"What was that?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh," Harry laughed, "you didn't know? Hermione and Malfoy have something going on.”

Hermione flushed, looking down shyly, "Nothing is going on with Draco and I, we're just friends." Hermione said, "Not Harry and Zabini are a completely different story… Isn't that right, Harry?”

Ron looked at Hermione and Harry in shock, "Zabini! That ponce?" Harry blushed and Ron groaned, "Don't tell me you fancy him." Ron watched Hermione and Harry's reactions and fall back into the wooden chair, "What is the world coming too?”

Hermione cleared her throat and sent a teasing smile towards Ron, "How's Susan?”

Ron's face darkening to match his red hair. Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, at their friend's reaction. Harry sat on Hermione's bed, and the rest of the conversation flowed easily until well after the sun set


	19. Chapter 19

Ron had left early the morning three days after Hermione's first potion.   
Lucius having both money and power in the Wizarding World even after war was able to get the ingredients, and even though Harry was sure he got them illegally, he was thankful none the less.

Harry would spend all his time with Hermione, only leaving when Malfoy had come to visit before Pomfrey kicked everyone out. The library was no longer his home and the energy he once put into looking for a cure, now went to hoping Hermione get better.

"Why are you still here," Hermione said stuffing her face with chocolate pudding eagerly, "shouldn't you be cuddled up with Blaise?”

Harry choked at her non-shallot tone, "What do you mean by that?" he said, his voice an octave higher that it should've been.

Hermione took another mouthful of the dessert. Harry had silently thanked Merlin that the potion had worked as fast as it did, not an hour after her first dose, she had her appetite back.

"Didn't you tell me you almost kissed?" She asked, "I thought you two would have done more than that now considering the looks he was giving you a few weeks back.”

Harry flushed and squirmed in his seat, "He wasn't giving me any looks." He whispered, "And I don't know what we're doing, or what I want, or what happened in the library…" He muttered to himself.

Hermione perked up at the new information, "What happened in the library?" She asked excitedly, scooping up more pudding, "Tell me.”

Harry flushed deeper, moistening his lips before scooting close to Hermione, "We were in the library and we did something… or he did something," he whispered, "and it felt good, and I feel weird about because I dont know what to feel.”

Hermione drew her brows together, a curious look on her face, "what was the something? Was it a kiss?”

Harry shook his head, words escaping him, "we kissed and then we went a little further…”

"Harry!" Hermione yelped, "In the library? The poor books!”

Harry rolled his eyes, Hermione's reaction bringing a smile on his face. "Forget about the books, Herms!" He laughed, "What do I do?”

"Well, how do you feel about it?" Hermione asked, "Like more than just not knowing.”

Harry looked down at his hands, "I'm afraid," he whispered.

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, then swallowed thickly, "Well," she said, setting her spoon down on the side table, "Did you hate it?”

Harry shook his head.

"Do you want to do it again?”

Harry nodded.

"Then what are you afraid of?" Hermione asked, sympathy in her eyes.  
"What if it ends up like my relationship with Ginny did?" Harry said.

Hermione watched him with shock in her brown eyes, "What do you mean by that?”

Harry shook his head, emotion rising in his chest. "Ginny didn't want to be with someone who had so much baggage." Harry sniffed, "She didn't want someone who can't sleep because when they do they have nightmares that leave them screaming. I'm broken.”

Hermione slid her hand in Harry's giving him a little squeeze, "We all went through horrible, unforgivable, things," Hermione said, "but thats no a reason to think you're broken.”

Hermione reached over and wiped a tear off Harry's cheek. He didn't even realize he was crying.

"What about Malfoy?" Harry asked, "Does he deserve your forgiveness?"  
Hermione gave a small smile, "He already has it." Hermione said, "And thats not what we are talking about," She scolded, picking up her spoon, "now go to the library, or wherever, and talk to him.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione took a scoop of the pudding and pushed it right in his mouth, stopping Harry in his tracks. Harry chewed slowly, eyeing Hermione with a scowl.

He couldn't argue though, the pudding was damn good.

Hermione gave harry a kiss on the cheek and shooed him away just as Malfoy, who's skin obviously had a strong glamor on it, walked into the room.

"Hey, Potter," Malfoy said when they passed each other, "he's in the library."  
Harry gave Malfoy a curt nod and turned back to Hermione, who was jumping up and down in her place. She gave him two thumbs up, the spoon tightly clutched in her hand serving as her second thumb.

Harry carefully walked down the halls, the mix of excitement and fear in his belly slightly forcing the sleepiness to go away. When he reached the library, Madam Pince looked at him over her classes and then looked away.

There was almost no one in the library which wasn't unusual, especially since end of term exams had ended three days prior.

Harry peaked into the aisles as he walked, hoping to find Zabini at a desk. He had begun to think that Zabini wasn't here when he reached to last five aisles.

To his delight, Harry was wrong.

In the aisle, all the way at the back of the library, Harry spotted Zabini at a desk, his head resting against the wall, his eyes closed.

"Are you going to just stand there and watch?" Zabini said cracking his eye open to look at Harry.

Harry jumped in shock, his eyes wide. "I thought you were asleep." Harry said, "I didn't want to wake you if you were.”

Zabini nodded, looking aloof. "What do you want, Potter?" Zabini said cooly, "It's been weeks since we last talked.”

"I wanted to tell you that Hermione is going to be okay," Harry said awkwardly, taking a few steps forward, "and I wanted to thank you for researching everything with me.”

Zabini stood, stretching as yawned. "So?" He said, "It's over now so I ask again, what do you want?”

Harry's brows furrowed, confused Zabini's coldness. Harry crossed his arms and suddenly feeling exposed and uncomfortable under the other boys piercing gaze.

"I wanted to see you." Harry said.

Zabini turned his nose up at Harry, and sneered, "Right," he mocked "you wanted to see me.”

Harry flushed, anger quickly replacing any unease. "Of course!" Harry said, "I wouldn't be here otherwise.”

Zabini narrowed his eyes at Harry, his sneer slowly fading, "Then why haven't I seen you?" Zabini asked, "I sucked you off and then you disappeared. Got what you wanted, eh? A little experiment?”

Harry blistered at the cruelness of Zabini's tone, guilt talking over. He had hurt Zabini's feelings.

"I spent most of my time with Hermione," Harry said, "I didn't want to leave her.”

Zabini watched Harry suspiciously as though to read if he was telling the truth.

"But now she's better and I wanted to see you," Harry said.

Zabini was silent for a long moment, "You aren't lying.”

Harry shook his head and extend his arm out infant of him, offering his hand to Zabini who took it.

"I needed some time to figure out what I wanted," Harry said.

"And what do you want?" Zabini asked, pulling harry close.

"You," Harry whispered.

A smile grew on Zabini's face, and a warm feeling filled Harry.

"Where's your room?" Zabini asked.

Harry licked his lips, trying to keep himself awake, and pulled Zabini out of the library, and down the stone hallways towards the portrait that sealed his room shut.

Harry whispered the password and the portrait swung open. Harry pulled Zabini into the common room, and up the stairs.

Once in his room, Zabini turned Harry and pushed him onto the bed, a slick smile on his face. Zabini started to undress, undoing his tie then ripping off his oxford, before stopping them in a pile on the bed.

Harry let his head fall back onto the mattress and the excitement of Zabini making good on his promise faded. Harry felt himself teeter on the edge sleep, struggling to stay focused on the man undressing in front of him.  
Merlin, when was the last time he slept?

"Potter?" Zabini said, his hands paused before he could pull he belt from the loops of his trousers.

"Yes?" Harry said, his eyes closed.

Harry heard Zabini huff before he nudged Harry's leg with his own, directing him up the bed.

Harry pulled himself up the bed, the cool sheets lulling him to sleep, and he felt the mattress dip beside him, a strong arm pulling him by the list.

"What are you doing?" Harry mumbled as his head hit the pillow.

"Go to sleep, Potter," Zabini said, nuzzling his nose into Harry's hair.

"But you said—“

“Hush."

"I don't think it's a good idea," Harry said.

Zabini pulled back, and Harry immediately grieved the loss. "Why do you say that?" Zabini said, tipping Harry's chin up forcing him to look in his eye.

"I have bad dreams," Harry whispered, "I'll wake you up.”

Zabini's eyes glazed over, sadness marring is features, but his next words surprised Harry, "Nightmares don't scare me.”

“Bu—"

"Sleep." Zabini said, releasing Harry's chin and resting his won on a pillow of black hair.

Harry nodded, letting himself relax against Zabini, who pulled him closer.

Sleep, Harry decided smiling against Zabini's chest, was exactly what he needed.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry was running.

It was dark and cold and utterly terrifying.

He didn’t know where he was going but he knew that he had to keep pushing forward even when his legs begged him to stop. 

“Potter,” he heard echoing around him.

The cold air froze his cheeks, reminding him of the year he had spent on the run, forcing his body to curl unto itself.

“Potter,” he heard again, louder.

Harry began to shiver, his muscled tensing painfully as the seconds ticked by.

“Harry!” 

Harry jumped up from his place in his bed, his hear beating wildly in his chest. He buried his face in his hands, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

Slowly, he felt warm hands snake up his back to his shoulders, “Potter,” Zabini whispered, “you.re okay, you’re safe.”

Harry nodded, choking on air as he did so.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, refusing to wake up, “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you apologizing?” Zabini asked.

Harry shrugged, pulling away from Zabini’s warm form.

Zabini huffed and slipped out of bed and padded to the door.

Harry’s heart sunk. Zabini was going to leave him like Ginny did. He was going to be alone all over again. 

Harry pulled his blanket over his shoulders and tried to get warm. 

The door clicked and Zabini walked back in with a mug of hot chocolate. Zabini carefully slipped back into bed and handed Harry the mug.

“Drink it,” Zabini said, “you’ll feel better.”

Harry hesitated before taking the cup.

“You aren’t leaving?” Harry asked.

Zabini’s dark eyes burrowed into Harry’s with stark dedication, “No.”

He wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him close to his side. Harry let his head fall onto Zabini’s shoulder and sighed happily as he slowly sipped his drink, the fear from the nightmare chipping away. 

After an hour, Harry had finished his hot chocolate and Zabini had intertwined his fingers with Harry’s.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Zabini asked with a whisper.

Harry shrugged, “I was running and it was dark,” he said in an almost childlike tone, “I was scared.”

Zabini looked at Harry with understanding, “Can you go to sleep?” he asked. 

Harry shook his head, slipping out of the bed, cup at hand. 

“I think I want to go for a walk,” Harry said, slipping on his shoes and setting down the mug, “wanna come?”

Zabini silently followed Harry out the door. Halfway down the stairs, a thought came to Harry’s head. 

The Map!

He ran back up and rummaged through his trunk, finding what he was looking for at the very bottom. 

Harry ran back down the stairs as quietly as he could, knowing that Hermione was probably in the other room, waving it in his hand, “we may need this,” he said. 

Zabini looked at Harry oddly, cocking up an eyebrow when he saw the map.

“Its a map,” Harry said. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the blank parchment, “Mischief Managed.” 

Harry watched with a wide grin as Zabini’s eyes widened. 

“Wha—”

“It tells me who is where,” Harry said.

Zabini took the map from Harry’s hands and flipped through everything quickly. 

“Is this how you were able to do it?” Zabini said, “Run around without ever getting caught?”

Harry laughed, nodding at Zabini’s shock. It took a moment to realize that Zabini’s face had slowly begun to fall. 

“Is this all happening right now,” Zabini whispered.

“Yes,” Harry replied, “Why?”

Zabini pointed to the map, Malfoy’s name surrounded by the names of those Harry recognized, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws alive, in the prefects bathroom.

Harry bolted into a sprint, running out of the room without a second thought, Zabini running next to him.

Following the hallways and ignoring the ghosts that told them to slow down, the made their way to the bathroom, shouting out the password before bursting in. 

There, by the large bathtub, Malfoy bleeding and surrounded but Seamus, Zaharias Smith, and Anthony Goldstein standing around him.

Malfoy swayed on his feet, his nose gushing blood on his face and clothes. 

Harry saw Zabini stiffen beside him at his side, but Harry was enraged. 

“What in the bloody hell are you doing?” Harry shouted, his hand flying to his wand. 

The three offenders turned to Harry, shock then glares slipping onto their faces at the sight of Harry’s drawn wand. 

“What are you doing, Harry?” Seamus said, eyeing him then Zabini. 

“Asking what you think you’re doing,” Harry said through clenched teeth. 

Zaharias stepped towards Harry his hands up in surrender, “Just having fun, mate.”

Harry’s eyes immediately narrowed at him. 

“Fun’s over,” Harry said, “get out.”

Anthony snorted, “It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.”

Zabini pulled out his wand and shot a hex at Anthony, sending him on his arse immediately. 

“I suggest you listen to boy wonder here,” Zabini said, jutting his head towards the door.

The three boys walked out, Seamus bumping Harry on the shoulder as he passed. Harry stood tall, not letting Seamus get to him.

There was no point in arguing with him. 

Zabini quickly moved to Malfoy, who let himself fall to the ground now that his attackers are gone. 

“You alright, Draco?” Zabini asked quietly, offering his hand to Malfoy.

Malfoy nodded, letting himself be pulled up by Zabini. 

“We should get you out of here,” Harry said, pulling out the map. 

He quietly led the two Slytherins back towards the common room, stopping and hiding when a Prefect or Professor walked by. 

Harry walked though the entrance of his dorm, and pointed at the couch for Zabini to help Malfoy settle into. 

“Harry Potter!” a voice from the top of the stair case screamed. Harry turned to Hermione stomping soon the steps, her fist pressing into her hips, “where were you? I come to the common room and you’re asleep with a boy in your bed and then you go and disappear! After everything, I would expect that you would at least—”

Hermione paused where her eyes fell onto Malfoy, who looked back at her with embarrassment. 

“Oh Draco,” Hermione said. She pulled out her wand and started to cast charms.

Harry huffed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He was out of trouble… this time.

Once Hermione finished with her healing spells, Malfoy tried to stand.

“We should get beck to the dungeon,” he said with a whisper.

Zabini nodded, opening his mouth to say something but Hermione cut him off.

“Nonsense!” she said, “you two will start here. Its not like one of you hasn’t already made themselves at home.”

She gave a cheeky smile to Harry, who in response flushed the deepest of reds.

“Hermio—“ Draco tired to interup.

“She’s tight” Harry said, giving Hermione a wolfish grin, “you can both stay here. Im sure Hermione wouldn’t mind sharing her bed, now would she?”

Hermione looked at Harry with wide eyes and Draco started to choke at his words. 

“Fine,” Hermione said, taking Zabini’s hand and pulling him towards the stairs. Zabini followed, throwing his head back from laughter, “Have fun boys,” she called back. 

Harry huffed and looked towards Draco, who had been staring at Hermione and Zabini in shock. 

“If you kick me,” Harry said, “I will make you life hell.”

Draco chocked again, “I can just sleep in the couch,” he said, “and besides, Zabini will through me out of your bed when he sneaks into your room later.”

Malfoy flopped himself back against the couches and made himself comfortable and Harry watched, hoping that Malfoy was right.


	21. Chapter 21

Hermione stretched out her arm and felt the cold space beside her in bed. She wrinkled her nose and pushed herself up, giving her self a moment to fully wake up. 

She got ready like she did most weekends, taking her time getting ready. 

There was a light tapping on her window, a beautiful Eagle Owl the cause. Hermione opened the window and let the bird hop in. 

“Aren’t you lovely?” Hermione asked, stroking the owl’s head.

The owl, Hercules from it’s tag, hooted in response, nuzzling not Hermione’s hand. 

Hermione took the small box and letter that the owl had tied to it’s leg. With a final hoot, Hercules flew off, leaving Hermione alone again. 

Hermione inspected the small brown package and waved her wand over it to ensure it was safe. Hermione took the letter and slipped her finger under the flap, breaking the seal.

Miss. Granger,

Please take this as a token of our acceptance of Draco’s decision to sort you. 

My husband and I wait for a time we can break bread at our dinner table.

Sincerely,   
Narcissa Malfoy

Hermione set the latter down and she opened the package, careful not to rip the brown paper. She pulled the wrapping away and revealed a soft velvet box. 

Hermione gasped when she opened the box. She stared down at the ruby necklace that glinted beautifully in the morning light. 

She walked out of her room to find Draco relaxing against the decorative pillows of the couch. 

“Morning, Hermione,” Draco said, sitting up straight, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. 

Hermione gave a shy smile, “Good morning, how did you sleep?” She asked, moving to stand next to Draco. 

Draco shrugged, standing up and stretching, “I’ve slept in worse places.”

Hermione gave a slight frown before he eyebrows rose.

“Where’s Blaise?” Hermione asked, “My bed was empty.”

Draco smiled, his eyes going to Harry’s shut door. Hermione flushed and stared at the door, wishing to disappear on the spot. 

“You okay?” Draco asked, concerned.

Hermione nodded, her mouth going dry. 

“Your parents sent me a necklace,” Hermione said.

It was Draco’s turn to stare. 

“Did- did you like it?” Draco asked. 

Hermione turned to look at him. His eyes were guarded but he bit his lower lip ever so slightly.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione said, “I don’t know how to respond. Like the way they would find appropriate… do I write a letter or…” 

Draco flushed slightly, licking his lips before speaking.

“Well,” he began, “the proper response would be for you to wear it when we go out together.” Draco paused breathing in deep, “That is if you accept my suit and decided that you want this… of course its okay if you don’t— I would understand if you think this is going to fast— Or-or if you decided that you don’t want this—” 

Hermione dared to slip her hand in Draco’s, stopping his rambling in it’s tracks. 

“I would be honored to wear the necklace when we go out,” Hermione chuckled. 

Draco froze in place, shock turned into hope, which turned into joy.

“Really?” Draco said, scoping her up, twirling her, “oh thank Merlin, I was so scared you would say no!”

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. 

Draco stopped spinning, and pulled her in close, planing a kiss on her lips. Hermione kissed back, letter herself melt into him, warmth filling her from head to toe.

“Ahem!” 

Draco and Hermione’s heads both snapped to the top of the stairs, Hermione’s face flushed and Draco’s face broken with a beaming smile. 

Harry and Zabini stood there, Harry had his face buried in his hands and Zabini was smiling down at the couple with a Wolfish grin. 

“Either get a room or ask us to leave,” Blaise said, chuckling as he made his way down the stairs. 

Draco rolled his eyes, still beaming, and put Hermione down.

“She’s agreed to my suit,” Draco said. 

Blaise smiled brightly, Congratulations mate!” he said nudging Draco’s shoulder, “now can we go to breakfast? I’ve worked up an appetite.”

“Oh my god,” was Harry’s reply, his face still in his hands. 

Hermione chocked at the realization of that that meant. 

“Sure,” Hermione said horsely.

Blaise nodded, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders. 

“Wait,” Draco said. He pulled out his wand and summoned the velvet put in Hermione’s room, “I want you to war it,” he said, “please?”

Hermione turned her back to Draco, swiping her hair to the side as best as she could. She wide for a moment, and the large ruby dangling in front of her. Draco clasped the necklace with a few quick moves, and Hermione felt the weight of the jewel on her chest. 

Hermione turned and looked at Draco from between her lashes.

“Wow, ‘Mione,” Harry said, “it looks great on you.”

Hermione flushed and whispered a gentle “thank you.”

Draco intertwined his fingers with Hermione’s, pulling her towards the door. Hermione followed with a smile, Blaise and Harry following close behind. 

Snape, who had been walking towards the Great Hall with his nose in a potions text stopped when he looked up to see Hermione and Draco together. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said, looking down at the blond, “what do you thing you’re doing?”

Draco gave a questioning look to Snape who simply swatted Draco with his potions book until he let go of Hermione’s hand. 

With a sneer, Snape led Hermione towards the Great Hall. Hermione turned slightly to see Draco’s gobsmacked face until Snape cleared his throat.

Hermione looked up to Snape, who was looking at her from the corner of his eye. 

“You have accepted his suit,” Snape said.

Hermione nodded, “Yes, sir.”

Snape narrowed his eyes and huffed, “The nerve of that boy.”

The students in the Great Hall fell sculpt when Snape pushed the doors open and escorted Hermione to the Gryffindor table, shaking Draco a glare, daring him to approach. 

Draco threw hw arms out infant of him and marched over to the Slytherin’s table, grumbling under his breath. Blaise gave Harry a quick kiss and rushed behind Draco, who was loudly complaining about “that damn barmy bat”.

From the Professor’s table, McGonagall and Pomfrey laughed, causing Snape to narrow his eyes at them. 

Harry quietly slid in next Hermione with a shrug, his lips pulling up at the corners. 

Snape flounced to the Professor’s table calling “100 points form Slytherin!” before the students of said house all began to protest.

“Why?” One student said. 

Snape sat at his usual seat and gave a pointed look at Draco, “I will be owning your parent’s, boy.”

Harry poured Hermione a glass of pumpkin juice while she watched everything unfold in front of her. 

Draco threw this hands into the air in frustration. 

“Are you glad we came back?” Harry whispered to Hermione, sliding his hand over her’s.

Hermione smiled fondly, her heart pounding in her chest.

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

End.


End file.
